


The Mask The Monsters Wear

by iDiru



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Biting, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Bodily Functions, Body Dysphoria, Bottom Peter, Bullshit Science, Cannibalism, Crying During Sex, Dicks put in places they probably shouldn't go, Discussion of Abortion, Drug Use, Estrus, Frottage, Fuck Or Die, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, I don't beta like anything before I post it so if there's typos you know why, Lowkey illustrated, M/M, Male Gynecology, Mentions of the threesome, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg, Multiple Orgasms, NO ONE FUCKING DIES, Oral Sex, Peter uses Roman for a fuck and regrets it, Post Season 2, Pre season 3/Season 3 rewrite, Pregnancy related peeing issues, Roman is incredibly depressed, Roman's a lowkey ho, Scratching, Sex in literally the first chapter, Sex with the living dead???, Top Roman, Vomiting, Werewolf Biology, accidental genital mutilation, graphic birth, monster genitals, ooc probably, title is not incredibly relevant, works well as a oneshot if you only read the first chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-01-06 23:17:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 244,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12220989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iDiru/pseuds/iDiru
Summary: Unbeknownst to even their own kind, some werewolves fall prey to an estrus that nearly drives them insane. Peter is one of these unlucky few, but luckily for him he has no qualms about lying with a male to get through it without the fear of pregnancy. Peter is also wrong and Destiny probably should have been more clear when she taught him the things she knew.





	1. The Monster In The Man

**Author's Note:**

> So everyone told me 'Just write an mpreg since you like it so much' and I said 'No I'm not writing a fucking mpreg' and then I said 'okay I'll write a stupid mpreg shut up'.  
> I'm gathering like, no one is going to read this at all because I'm pretty sure I'm one of two in the fandom who's written about this but fuck it, I'm uploading it anyway.  
> More notes at the end and a link to some art I did that helped me cement the general position of the sex scene.

               

 

             There were many things in the world that hid from human eye; monsters masquerading as humans and myths of their existence being just a story. Something that shouldn’t exist, something that didn’t exist. Something you read about in fairytales, ghost stories and see in midnight, B-movie horror flicks. For all its lack of existence there was still a great deal of knowledge surrounding the supernatural. Legends, sightings and stories, but lurking in the dark behind all of these great monsters was science. Whether it was the notion of infection, the belief of curses that carry on to other generations, there was usually some degree of science involved in some way or another.

 

                Lycanthropy was no different. It could be said that it’s existence could be disproven by science, that it was an illness that effected the mind and the body. But science could not explain how a man could rip free from his own prison of flesh and walk the world on four, furry limbs. It could, however, dictate its biology. Lycanthropy wasn’t entirely a curse, it was a genetic mutation. It was steeped in the world of things that were more mythic than scientific but it was a mutation nonetheless.  Mutation as it might have been, all things at one point were mutations, and all of those things still had the desire to procreate.  Human as they might appear their genetic code held a different set of rules.

 

                Though it had no name in the past when the belief of lycanthropy was fresh and new, the genetic code of each werewolf was the same. There was a piece of it that could activate at any age after thirteen, on any day, that told them to breed. From dawn until dusk unless they finally gave in and mated, or more commonly, masturbated until it stopped. Because werewolves were rare as it was the information was not widely spread as it didn’t happen to everyone; there was just a chance that it could.

 

                Peter was one of the unlucky few who suffered from this condition. It started when he was fourteen and had plagued him three more times since then like a curse that sometimes seemed far worse than ripping out of his own skin every month. That was just pain and it was over quickly. This was a different kind of agony. A desperation so intense that he felt it might drive him mad one day and he would not come out of it the next day with any sanity.

 

                The fourth time it happened was very inopportune. Tragedy had befallen them with the kidnapping of Miranda and Nadia. Peter had been spending most of his time at Roman’s in his guest bedroom out of fear of what he might do if left alone. He wasn’t going to run this time. He had nowhere to run to, and he couldn’t let Roman go through tragedy again like last time. He’d lost the last piece of Letha he had, not to mention Miranda. The woman he, or rather they, loved dearly. It wasn’t a time to leave and it certainly wasn’t the time to be writhing in agony in bed for a whole day. He could only pray the morning it started that he could get it to stop before Roman came home.

 

                He slept most of the day to try to ignore the fact that it was happening, only waking to attempt going through the motions of trying to piss with an erection because even a breeze would make him hard. So every time he ended up in the bathroom he didn’t leave until he’d jerked off enough to come, so he could at least get back to the bedroom and sleep without the incessant painful nagging of an erection. If there was one thing good about all of Roman’s help dying a few weeks prior it was that he could be alone in his pain without having to worry about making too much noise.

 

                But of course he couldn’t be alone forever, and Roman wouldn’t be away until the next day. He shouldn’t have been surprised by what inevitably ended up transpiring when he awoke late in the day in such agony that he had to do something about it then and there. He was stripped down to his boxers due to the fact that he felt like he was on fire but he had given up on the fact that he’d be wearing them much longer. He had nothing to clean himself up with, nor did he feel like dealing with having to clean the sheets. He was just desperate enough to use them as a receptacle for the time being.  

 

                                He reached between his legs, beneath the mess of sheets tangled around his hips to at least give him some semblance of privacy even if he was alone. Gentle as he tried to be with himself it was painful. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been hard exactly but he was desperate to not be anymore. He merely palmed the outside of his boxers, rolling his hips against his hand to get some kind of rhythm, so that he wouldn’t make a mess anywhere else. How long was it going to be until this happened again, though? What would he use then? He could presumably use them again in a different manner but the thought was sort of gross. This thought was fleeting as getting off was really one of the only things on his mind at the moment. He had barely even eaten anything. Trying to just made him sick.

 

                It didn’t take him long to near that peak. He knew the reason for this; knew the reason for the entire thing. He was lucky enough to have a family member like Destiny to tell him shit he didn’t understand. It was awkward as hell of course but she didn’t seem to think so. Destiny was shameless in that aspect. He knew that this was meant for breeding; to get off as many times as he could would only ensure more of a chance to continue his bloodline. But Peter was a guy with no woman to impregnate in his time of need and his hand had to be good enough. Still, his body couldn’t exactly differentiate from his hand and pussy.

 

                He had to bite down on his lip to stifle the noise as he came because he felt like he might have heard some movement downstairs. He was not entirely quiet, a muffled groan slipping past the barrier. He was sated for nearly two seconds until he was both surprised and terrified.

“That’s a really weird way to jerk off,”

 

                His eyes shot open in surprise and he did what he could to cover himself even though he was technically decent. He heard Roman laugh at this spectacle but it was only half-hearted.

“Jesus Christ, fucking privacy man, God!” Peter let out a huff of annoyance and bunched the sheets around his middle as he sat up, annoyed that Roman’s mere presence was making him hard again. Everyone had known to give him his space the last two times it had happened. He’d never actually been in the presence of someone else and it was taking all he could to not jump him right now. “How long have you been standing there? And what the fuck do you want?”

“Long enough. Is this all you do when I’m gone?”

“No,” Peter huffed out, trying to avert his gaze not only from embarrassment but he wasn’t sure what would happen if he kept looking at him. “What did you want?”

“Fuck if I remember. Probably wasn’t important.”

“Then fuck off,” Peter growled, sitting up in preparation to shoo him out but the shift in position not only made him dizzy but incredibly aroused. The sheets brushed against his groin and sent the mildest of shockwaves into his abdomen but it still made him double over and let out one of the most pathetic sounding whimpers he’d ever made. Like a kicked puppy, perhaps.

 

                Roman seemed like he was about to retort but found it best to drop it. He wasn’t like himself lately, and that was understandable. That mild bit of banter he’d given him moments ago was one of the rare moments Roman actually seemed more or less human. He turned to leave but Peter found himself calling out to him, mentally wanting to kick himself for even saying anything.

“Wait…,” he said, and Roman looked at him inquisitively, waiting for an answer. An answer he had to give because he’d already started it. It was his full intention to tell him to forget it but what ended up coming out was “I really need your help.”

“Okay…but you’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“Look,” Peter started, swallowing and trying to stop himself from opening flood gates that really needed to remain closed. Because he was definitely about to complicate things if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. But it was hard to think straight when his mind was so preoccupied with the desperate feeling in his groin.

“I can’t explain this to you right now but I’m going out of my fucking mind and …I really need you to fuck me right now, or find someone who can, because I can’t take this anymore.” As he spoke it was strained, like his lungs constricted on every word and it was almost a growl. It was desperate and he was nearly at the point of crying as he finished speaking. It was clear that some change had taken place. He could see just by looking at him that Roman knew something wasn’t right. That maybe even had he not been gripped by depression he might not joke about this. 

“And if-…If you can’t help me you need to leave, because I don’t know what I’ll do to you if you don’t.”

                Had his mind not been so consumed by the thought of procreation, Peter would have felt much worse. He was basically threatening him, or maybe it was more of a warning. Regardless this was an awful time for this to happen. He shouldn’t be trying to coerce his friend into bed after he’d just lost his niece (or whatever she was to him). He would understand, on any other day, if Roman declined him just based on that fact. But he couldn’t think of that right now. True logic was something he was lacking when his mind was consumed by the fog of fucked up biology.

                                       

                But what he didn’t know was that asking Roman for this favor was even worse than he could have imagined. Because he wouldn’t decline; he couldn’t. What Roman saw in him, the moment he walked in, was something else. Something that was far past logic and reason; something animal. It scared the shit out of him and Roman needed Peter with him. He didn’t need some creature that was just one step up from a vargulf. He didn’t want to fuck this up and have him leave. Aside from Shelley, Peter was truly the only thing he had left. Sex wasn’t something he was exactly feeling up to. It wasn’t something that had been on his mind, as it was too clouded by thoughts of his daughter, but this was far more than just sex.

 

                He truly had no idea what was going on with Peter other than it seemed as though he was slowly losing himself. For all he knew, he might not come back. Sacrifices had to be made and Roman found it far simpler to do it himself than to involve people he didn’t know in their shit. Prostitute or not, he didn’t want to bring someone back to his home. Still the entire ordeal left him without words. He gave Peter nothing more than a vague hand gesture and headed off into the house.

 

 

                For a moment it filled Peter with despair. It seemed like Roman was blowing him off. Okay, that was fine. He just had to forget that he was in the house. Maybe he could jerk off again and fall asleep and forget that he’d ever said something so unbelievably stupid. But he had been introduced to something now that he’d never known; just how it felt to be around someone in such a state. It made the need so much stronger and he almost didn’t think he could take care of it himself anymore. He leaned forward enough so that he could lay against the sheets, which now seemed so hot and stifling he almost couldn’t breathe.

 

                He was so lost in his own head, which was actually nothing more than just a buzz of desperation, he didn’t notice that Roman had returned. It was only when he felt a hand on his shoulder, feeling far cooler to him than his own skin due to how hot he was despite the fact that Roman was more or less a normal human temperature. It startled him and he found himself sitting up suddenly to find Roman looking slightly worried.

“I’ve been calling you for at least a minute,” he said. “Do you have a fever or something? You feel like you’re burning up.”

Peter shook his head, though he wasn’t really sure what he would call his vastly increased body temperature. It wasn’t technically a fever, or any kind of illness.

“No,” Peter said, “I-I don’t know.” He was incredibly confused, and even the simplest statements took some thought. “I thought you left.”

“To get this,” Roman said, very briefly flashing him the bottle of lube he was carrying. He was doing just what Peter asked, and he was not at all disappointed. “I don’t know if you can understand me but …you look horrible. And I really appreciate that you’ve stuck around as much as you have and I can’t let you sit here and go through this. You gotta come back to me.”

 

                Peter nodded, getting the basic gist of it and feeling his heart nearly stop when Roman sat in front of him on the bed. So close; so fucking close and Peter wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off him in a minute.

“I’m so sorry…” he breathed, finding now that respiration was something far less important to him now than sex.

“It’s fine, whatever.” Roman responded. “Just don’t make this weird. I do this and then we forget about it. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter said with a very brief nod. Truthfully it wasn’t like they hadn’t shared a bed before, but there was something missing now that made the whole situation more taboo. There was nothing to bridge the gap; to make a comfortable distance between them. Nothing to absorb the shock. He knew Roman in ways most friends could say they didn’t, and they shouldn’t, but at the moment he was willing to take it a lot further.

                Roman was nervous; he sat there for a few seconds and it was clear he wasn’t quite sure what to do. His movements were jittery and he wasn’t sure where to place his gaze. To Peter’s surprise he made the first move and took away some of the responsibility.

Roman grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him forward, kissing him with a calculated precision that was both hard and tentative. It was all that Peter needed for that switch that stopped him from touching him to be flipped, and there was no going back. He gripped the side of Roman's face and held him there as he kissed him hard, breathing deep and audibly through his nose. He smelled like expensive cologne and he tasted like iron and a bit like cigarette ash. It wasn't what he was used to but that somehow made it all the more enticing.

He felt like a girl and if he weren't so desperate to get fucked he might want Roman to blow him because his mouth was perfect for it. A girl who tasted like and embodied all the evil things in this world that hid beneath the surface of reality and held a scent so foreign and yet so familiar. He lamented the feel of his mouth as he pulled away suddenly, eyes black pits of desire and lips so beautifully kiss swollen he couldn't wait to taste them again.

He took in a sharp gasp as Roman suddenly shoved him hard against the headboard to pull the sheets away from him and grip his thighs to guide them around his waist. It was a bit of an awkward position but he could work with it. He needed to touch him; to kiss him again and get back that missing puzzle piece. He reached for his shirt to slip his hands beneath the fabric until Roman grabbed both of them and pinned his arms above him to the wall as he leaned in to kiss him, using the wall to support him. It was torture; he wanted to touch but he couldn't. He was pinned and vulnerable and God it was driving him insane.

Roman shifted his hips beneath him and Peter was forced to press his against him. He couldn't quite get the right angle and it was frustrating but it was enough to feel good, and he breathed out a moan into his mouth. He found he’d had enough with being pinned down and urged Roman to move by pushing his knee beneath his ribs until he got the hint. He backed away suddenly, releasing him and looking almost confused.

“Fuck…” he breathed out, as he struggled to catch his breath. “Sorry I just…didn’t know how much I wanted something like this. It’s kind of overwhelming, I got kind of carried away.”

“Something like this?” Peter asked, for the moment having the presence of mind to ask what he meant.

“Sex, I mean. I haven’t...” he stalled, “Not since Miranda. I didn’t think I wanted it but I do.” He avoided his gaze now as he spoke but Peter could still see how blown his pupils were, and how hard he was beneath him. He definitely wasn’t backing down. “I mean in general. Not with you.”

“Thanks,” Peter said sarcastically. “Don’t do that again unless I ask for it.”

“I’ll try not to,” 

 

            Roman placed his hands on Peter’s hips, his fingers griping at the waistband of his boxers to pull them down and slowly expose the skin beneath. The position was awkward; it took a little longer than he’d have liked but he ended up naked eventually. Roman was able to undress without moving him too much, which Peter might have been more impressed with had this been any different.

“How much have you done this?” Roman asked, running one of his thumbs along the skin of his hip.

“Fucked someone?” Peter asked, in his mind the only thing he could think to clarify.

“No…I mean jerked off, you. Your dick looks like someone took sandpaper to it.”

 

            It was clearly an exaggeration; true it did look chafed but not that badly. Then again, someone could punch him in the face and he might not acknowledge the pain right now.

“I lost count,” he replied shamelessly. He had a feeling he was going to regret everything he’d done and said the minute this was over with. Very deep in the back of his mind he could imagine he’d probably have to end up moving back to Destiny’s from the shame and awkwardness of it all. 

 

            Roman did not respond, instead gripping him hard by the hips and both sliding out from under him and pulling him down the bed slightly further, so that he was leaned comfortably against the pillows and not forced into a sitting position. He could see some hesitation in him, like maybe he was starting to see that this was a really stupid idea. A really fucking stupid idea that Peter should have had the strength to not suggest.

“You want me to fuck you, right? Actually fuck you?”

He only nodded, and this was enough consent apparently, as he grabbed the lube from where it’d been kicked to the side of the bed and poured a generous amount onto his fingers, slipping his hand between his legs with purpose and calculated movement. It was cold and wet but it quickly warmed from the amount of heat his body was putting off, and it didn’t take long for his body to relax enough so that Roman could get one of his fingers in.

 

            He knew what he was doing, more or less. Not with men but he’d been there when Roman had fucked Miranda with him. It was a memory that, he was ashamed to admit, sort of turned him on even when he wasn’t in such a state. He remembered her sitting against his lap, buried in the heat of her body and the sudden tightening as Roman slid into her from behind, and he could feel him between that thin membrane that separated the two of them. He had not actually seen him prep her, but he was assuming he must have, given that there wasn’t much resistance. But he remembered feeling him so close. Something so sinful, something you shouldn’t ever feel with a friend. Shouldn’t be able to map out the shape of your friends cock by the way it feels in the girl you’re fucking.

 

            But Roman had his fingers in him now; actually in him, not just close to him. It filled him with a buzz of arousal, his whole body alight and his nerves so sensitive he could probably come from this alone. It took him a moment for him to realize Roman was trying to speak to him.

“Peter!” he shouted, which finally got his attention.

“What?” he said, in a sort of unhappy whine that made him sound like being spoken to was the worst of offenses.

“You checked out,” Roman said. “Like you were in some weird fucking trance. I just wanted to make sure you were still here.”

“I’m here, I just-…” he trailed off, feeling his mind started to become overwhelmed by his current affliction again and short circuited. Roman brought him back, but not in the way he expected. He pushed his fingers against his prostate, probably not as hard as it felt but it brought him back to reality nonetheless. It was probably an accident but fuck if it didn’t feel good.

 

            His breath caught in his throat momentarily before he realized he was coming, and he stifled himself by biting down on his fist, the fear of being caught still somehow engrained in his psyche despite the fact that the only person who would catch him was there with him. Roman let out a sudden noise of surprise, probably unsure of what he’d just done or why.

“Uh...do you…should I stop?” Roman asked.

“No,” Peter said, finding it difficult to speak. “For now,” For the moment he was sated, as sated as he could be, and there was the realization of what he was doing now. How embarrassing it was for him to try to talk to him, because he still coming, probably all over him with the way it seemed to be dripping out of him more like water than anything with volume.

“It happens…A f-fucking lot,”

He was ashamed of the way he struggled to speak and the way his lungs and his abdomen contracted around every word, and just how vulnerable he was right now. Showing Roman things he should never show him, letting him into a world he had no part of being in. As he finally started to come down the moment of shame diminished to the point where he had no problem with begging.

“Just fuck me,” he said breathlessly.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t notice if you punched me in the face right now, you can tear me apart for all I care; just fuck me before I lose my fucking mind.”

 

            Roman didn’t answer him but he seemed to understand, and Peter merely waited for what he knew would probably be painful but at the moment he didn’t care. He laid heavily against the pillows beneath him, one arm splayed out beside him as he closed his eyes, to try to calm himself. To stop from jumping him and forcing himself on him with enough desperation that he would probably end up doing himself a lot of harm. Instead he gripped onto the pillow to ground himself. He listened to the silence of the room, to his own breathing, to the humming sound of the A/C somewhere off in the distance. Roman’s house was always painfully silent.

 

 

            He felt the bed shift beneath him and the way his heart picked up speed in reaction. He opened his eyes finally as Roman gripped both of his thighs and wound them around his waist, and he could feel the slickness of his cock somewhere along the side of his leg and inner hip. He watched as Roman slipped his hand between the both of them, gripping his cock to try to steady it; watching with a look of concentration as he tried to line up with him. He did, but his body did not relent quite the way he wanted it to. He experienced a moment of clarity; perhaps the realization he was finally getting what he wanted brought him back to the real world and he could feel everything; really feel everything.

 

            It wasn’t just pleasure, it was pain. On one hand he was practically begging for it but his body was doing what it needed to; to fight off intrusion and Roman could _not_ get in. It was so fucking frustrating, and Peter thought he’d probably punch himself later for the annoyed whine he gave out when he realized it wasn’t working. Roman took this as a sign to stop but Peter wouldn’t let him, instead wrapping his thighs around his hips as tightly as he could and pulling him forward.

“Jesus _fuck,_ Peter.” Roman groaned out between gritted teeth, relentlessly forced into him despite his body’s insistence that this was wrong. When it started to give way it only made him more insistent, and he shifted his hips up, bearing down with his muscles and pushing him forward until finally he was finally opened up enough that Roman actually could continue.

 

             The both of them cried out in unison; one in relief and the other in sudden pleasure. He waited for Roman to compose himself, released his hold on his hips and waited, his breath labored and his entire body feeling like it was vibrating. It felt like it took forever for Roman to move, but when he did it made Peter more desperate. He shifted his hips up again, back arched slightly and his fingers gripping what they could of thee sheets, a silent plea begging him to go deeper. He watched as Roman held his breath, concentration evident in his form as he pushed as deep as he could go before he let it out, shuddering and labored.

 

            The upir leaned forward, using one arm to brace himself and the other to run through Peter’s hair. He was practically nose to nose with him, the scent of ash and blood filling his nostrils as Roman breathed against him.

“This is a stupid fucking idea,” he said suddenly.

“Yes,” Peter responded, “It’s fucking stupid, but please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Roman responded. “I just want you to know it’s stupid.”

 

            Peter could not have known the reasoning behind this statement, as it was far deeper and more complicated than he could currently comprehend. The moment Roman sheathed himself, deep inside a heat hotter and tighter than he could imagine, there was a moment in the back of his head that said this would be the death of him. This, here, was his mistake. He would look back on it one day and remember how much he’d fucked up. Because here he was, wrapped up in something so fucking ethereal, so special, that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to go back. How could he come back from this? Could he truly pretend this hadn’t happened? Could he lie to himself and tell him he didn’t enjoy it?

 

            Because it was so fucking taboo that he only craved it more. Roman was collected, as he could be. He was the thing that hid in the shadows, that smelled of blood and fear and evil. He was ugly, broken, evil and completely fucked. Peter was good; he was wild. He was the thing that smelled of the Earth, and the embodiment of the wind in your hair when you drove with the top down. He was wild, he was inhuman, animal, fucking beautiful. He was everything Roman wasn’t. So incompatible, from such different worlds. That’s why it was so taboo, because the both of them were so different they could never truly find happiness like this. He didn’t deserve Peter and he never would. He didn’t deserve him as more than a friend, if he even deserved him as a friend at all. He was almost no different than cocaine and Roman was terrified he might get addicted.

 

            When Peter kissed him, after moments of Roman doing nothing but staring at him and feeling sorry for himself, he was broken from his trance of self-pity if only for a moment. He could get wrapped up in this if only for a moment. But this was not Peter’s intention. He of course knew nothing of this internal struggle and only kissed him because he felt he had to. Like he was on fire, and his lips burned and tingled, begging to kiss someone; to kiss the person who’d given him mercy. It was all Roman was at the moment and in his moments where he could think, Peter felt like shit. He was only using him. He would destroy him in this moment, body and soul if he had to, to get what he wanted.

 

            He gripped him by the hair, held his face as he kissed him. He shifted his hips in desperation, kissing him like he didn’t need air and begging for more. He wanted him so much, in so many ways. He wanted to take, to take all he could. Drain him to nothing and then some, fuck him until there was nothing left. Lycanthropy was truly a terrible affliction, if not just what it did to the body, but at this point, to the mind. This was not Peter, this was a monster.

“Please…” he breathed, breaking away finally and mumbling against his lips. Wordlessly, Roman complied, pulling out just far enough so that he could push back in. It was gentle, barely there but Peter still breathed out what was almost a sob, more so from relief than anything. Roman worked himself into a rhythm and Peter worked back, meeting his shallow thrusts and tilting his hips so that he came closer to his prostate each time. He still only brushed it but for the moment it was enough.

 

            The more they continued, the less Roman forgot about being gentle. He pushed one of thighs against his chest, driving in as deep as he could with every thrust. Not that he wanted Roman that deep but there was a certain type of thrill about it. It was almost painful, it was rough and it was purely at this point for Roman’s pleasure, but Peter didn’t care. He wanted this, and in the back of his mind something was begging to make Roman come in him. But with one thrust, that changed things, because it was unexpectedly painful and caused him to give out a pained cry that stopped Roman in his tracks.

“Fuck…Did I hurt you?”

“Kind of…you’re too deep.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I didn’t care. Go shallower, go up.”

 

            Roman did as he asked, and with the angle of his own pelvis his he finally hit him where he wanted. He gasped sharply, cursed beneath his breath and gripped the back of Roman’s neck, his other hand meeting his shoulder. He felt the need to hold on because every time he thrust into him he felt like he was coming apart. He dug his nails into Roman’s skin, heard him groan out in agony and pleasure before he silenced himself by lowering his head and sucking welts into his neck. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, but he knew this wouldn’t be the last time he came either. And good lord, he was fucking loud. Loud and ashamed, he muffled himself with the back of his hand because he was still somehow worried someone would hear.

 

            Roman wasn’t too keen on this, and he grabbed his wrist and pushed it to the bed, kissing him and breathing in every moan and gasp until he felt satisfied to kiss down his jaw. He gripped his jaw, tilting his head back, sucking welts into the other side of his neck until he did more than just suck, he bit him. He bit him fucking hard and it hurt. It was no surprise that Roman was a biter. He remembered watching him nip at Miranda’s neck but he never bit this hard.

“Fucking asshole!” Peter shouted, grabbing his hair and pulling. Roman all but growled at him and sunk down further, and Peter knew he was bleeding. He could feel it dripping down his shoulder, and he could feel teeth in his neck and the skin giving way beneath them. It hurt but it was almost erotic.

“Stop it!” he said, this time with far more authority, pulling his hair again until he finally stopped. He pulled away, looking annoyed but almost guilty. Peter wasn’t sure what drove him to do it but he gathered the blood forming at his neck on his thumb, pressing it against Roman’s lips which he eagerly took.

 

            He sucked away the blood like a man starved, then sunk his teeth into his finger but not enough to do damage. He pulled away, smearing the blood down his lips, reveling in the way they parted, swollen and wet with spit and blood. The way he breathed against him, heavy but higher in pitch. When he looked him in the eye Peter lost it, he came suddenly and hard. He was sure he drew blood with the way his nails sunk into Roman’s skin, crying out broken moans as he painted his stomach white. He watched Roman’s eyelids flutter momentarily, teeth sinking into his lips as he looked down and stopped only momentarily. He was glad he didn’t have to tell Roman to keep going.

 

            He kept fucking him and it was almost like he never stopped coming. Physically he did, but he was so oversensitive that it was mind blowing until he finally started to calm down. Still, he craved it. Knew it wasn’t enough; not yet. But he knew Roman couldn’t last much longer and he only prayed that he could keep going just long enough.

“If you come now I’m gonna kick your ass,” Peter breathed out. “You better find a way to keep going.”

“I’m fucking trying,” Roman ground out, and he stopped momentarily, leaning his head against Peter’s shoulder. He could feel how close he was; physically feel him. He could feel it in the way his cock pulsed inside of him that he was barely hanging on by a thread.

“Don’t,” he threatened. “I swear to God…”

“Shut up,” Roman said, his tone sharp, quick and bitter. It seemed the need had abated and he let out a heavy breath. “I can’t…I can’t do this much longer,”

“Then make me come,” Peter threatened, or he tried, but it came out as a desperate whine. “I don’t care what you have to do, just do it.”

“You’re real fucking high maintenance,” Roman growled, reaching between the two of them and gripping his cock with purpose. It hurt; he was right, it was chafed, but he didn’t care. He used the copious amounts of come that had soaked the both of them as lubricant before tilting his hips up as far as he could and fucking him hard in time with the way he jerked his cock.

 

            Peter didn’t ever think he’d truly been fucked that hard before. It felt good; it felt so fucking good it hurt. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t even speak. It felt like getting kicked in the prostate and it was too much. He almost wanted to tell him to stop but the only thing he could get out were broken moans, breathless and sharp as they left his lungs. It didn’t long at all for Roman to make him come again, but this time it was different. He had never come this hard in his life. There was something so mind blowing about it that he lost track of reality for a moment until he realized Roman wasn’t moving. He couldn’t move; he was physically stuck, because his muscles had tightened around him in an unrelenting grip that was preventing him from doing anything.

“Holy fuck,” Roman cursed, burying his face in Peter’s neck and holding him like he was breaking apart, and Peter did the same, because he was almost barely present and he, too, needed something to ground himself to reality.

 

            He listened to Roman’s broken, shuddering moans as he finally came in him, and he had the feeling that this was something new for him too. That there was a strange and new intensity that neither of them had ever experienced. Something neither of them would ever experience again. Something that was beyond just sex, it was the strangeness of biology. Of werewolf mating; his body had actively been trying to take in semen. It was apparently confused at his gender because this would do nothing in the long run.

 

            But apparently this was enough for his body to realize it was done torturing him with sexual frustration. The final time he came down from one hell of an orgasm, he did so to find Roman very rapidly exiting the room. That was when the shame hit. He felt as though he’d done irreparable damage. That he’d shown Roman a side of him that he would much rather have kept locked up. It was a side of him that even he didn’t know he had because this had never happened before.

 

            He knew what had happened wasn’t entirely his fault, but he wished that his mind would have at least blocked out the thoughts he’d had during it. Instead he remembered everything. He remembered the thought of hurting Roman, to take everything he had. He couldn’t fathom how that thought could ever make sense in a time that wasn’t dominated by a desperate arousal. Was he any better than a rapist at this point? Had he coerced Roman to his bed, with no care for his feelings?

 

            But he remembered that Roman did this willingly. He told him to walk away, he told him that he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He was eternally grateful that he’d broken this spell biology held over him but he was also guilty. In some way he knew that this wasn’t just sex for the both of them. He felt disgusting, mentally and physically. He was an asshole and covered in lube and the slickness of his own fluids. His body was too weak and heavy to move, and he was almost content to lay here and fall asleep so that he could hate himself in the morning for allowing this to happen.

            To his surprise, Roman entered once again not much different than how he had left. He was slightly cleaner but his face still held the slight stain of blood, and his hair was mussed. He was carrying a wet rag but Peter was far more interested in what he didn’t have; clothes. It was bizarre to him because Roman never let his guard down like this for him. He had seen him naked before, in the throes of passion and aroused, but he had never seen him like this. He had never taken notice of a form that was natural and innocent, and surprisingly uncut. That was something he could’ve gone without knowing. Not that it bothered him, as he was too, but it was strange. He wouldn’t have put it past Olivia to mutilate Roman before he could even function.

 

            Roman unceremoniously tossed the rag at him and fidgeted slightly where he stood before making the move to leave. He could have been wrong, but Peter saw hesitation. Roman didn’t want to leave. Not that he wanted to stay with Peter specifically, but he knew Roman was lonely. He knew he went to bed alone every night and didn’t actually sleep until late, because he heard him walking around sometimes in the wee hours of the morning in silence. That he was probably wound so tight he was about to snap. Peter knew that if he said nothing Roman would go back to his room that night, and he would do the same thing as always.

 

            He knew what he was about to ask would probably be met with a no, or further complicate things, but after what he’d done he thought he owed it to Roman to give him some company at least once.

“Don’t,” Peter said. “Don’t leave.”

“Seriously?” Roman asked. His tone was full of what sounded like disgust, but he knew it was only there to mask the fact that he truly sounded hopeful and confused.

“Yeah. I hate kicking girls out of bed,”

“Fuck you,” Roman said with a soft laugh and stalled for a moment before heading over to the bed. He sat as far as he could from Peter, covering himself with the blanket and avoiding looking at any part of him. Peter was grateful for this because he didn’t want Roman watching him while he cleaned himself off. It was all but graceful and in all honesty probably gross. He threw the rag into a hamper at the corner of the room, but he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to use it again as it was covered in blood, lube, and come.

 

“What happened to not making this weird?” Roman finally asked.

“It’s already weird. We can’t make it any weirder.”

 

            He pulled the blanket over himself in silence, staring at the ceiling and finding that maybe Roman being here was weirder. It was awkward, like there was an elephant in the room that you couldn’t talk about being there. He just wished Roman would stop sitting there. That he’d speak to him, however weird that might make it.

 

            He finally did the minute Peter closed his eyes, laying down next to him and facing him without actually looking at him.

“At the risk of making shit weirder….what the fuck,” Roman asked, though the way he said it sounded more like a statement.

Peter only groaned, running a hand over his face as he dreaded trying to explain this.

“It happens to us,” Peter said. “I mean to werewolves, but only to some of us. Lucky fucking me,” he mumbled. “It’s like some primal urge to mate. It drives us crazy until it finally wears off.”

“So if I hadn’t…helped you,” Roman trailed off, hoping his message was clear enough.

“I don’t know. People usually know to stay away but…every time it happens, I’m never sure if I’m going to come out of it with my head intact. But I’ve never been around a person before and that’s the worst it’s ever been.”

Roman didn’t respond to this, and he fell silent again for a long while, until the sun began to set fully and darkness began to settle over the room like a thick blanket.

“Sorry about your neck,” he said finally, just as Peter had begun to fall into sleep.

Peter let out a soft laugh as he spoke “Sorry about your dick.”

 

            It was Roman’s surprised chuckle that Peter heard as he drifted off to sleep, but it was something very different that awoke him. He wasn’t sure what was happening at first until the presence of something hot and wet pressing against him, and the sound of a very repetitive noise startled him, and he made a noise of surprise and attempted to jerk away from whatever it was before he realized it was Roman. It seemed to startle the both of them and Roman’s gut reaction was to flee, and though half-awake Peter grabbed him by the first thing he could reach to still him until he could assess just what the fuck was happening. Sleep addled as his mind might have been, he realized that for whatever reason Roman had been using him to cry on.

 

            Peter was bad with this kind of thing. He was bad at giving comfort, bad at making things better when he knew there was nothing he could do, so he did the only thing he could think of. He forced him back down to the bed and pulled him close, so that his head was resting against his collar-bone. Roman fought him for a moment until he finally gave up, and wrapped his arms around his back and cried harder than he’d ever heard him do. It wasn’t surprising to Peter. He knew Roman was suffering and he didn’t find it strange, and he thought that maybe Roman might do this in private. Or maybe he had truly broken after fighting for so long to keep up a front that was calm and collected. He was always alone, and Peter had never given him such closeness as he had tonight. Maybe that glimpse of companionship was all Roman really needed to realize just how lonely he was and how much he needed someone but was too afraid to ask.

 

            Peter truly wasn’t the best person for this; he was emotionally unavailable where it counted but he could be there as much as he could, when he could, if he could. He accepted this, but what was truly weird was how Roman, a person who was exponentially taller than him, could feel so small and fragile. Even with how much he could feel of him; the way his leg slotted between Pete’s thighs, maybe a little too far for his comfort, and the way that even resting against him he was nearly enveloping him. But still, Roman felt small.

 

            He wouldn’t ask what the problem was. Roman could tell him when he wanted, if he wanted, but for now he stayed like this until Roman fell asleep. It was already weird, why not make it weirder?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I honestly haven't watched Hemlock Grove in its entirety in like a few months so I may be rusty with characters and this probably sucks worse than the last one I wrote. I'm probably disappointing the fuck outta everyone who asked me to keep writing.  
> The title isn't really relevant to this fanfic other than a few lines at the beginning. It was inspired by Where The Dead Go To Die. About the aforementioned fanfic title: HORRIBLE segment, bitchin' name. It was the first hing that came to my head trying to title it though.
> 
>  
> 
> [Anyway here's a link. It's porn. Don't open it in public. ](https://78.media.tumblr.com/cfe7dd9390cbd35d26fe3f40a551eca8/tumblr_owsvama3aW1r8y8hko1_1280.png)


	2. The Dog In The Basement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this chapter is long and gross and probably ooc I'm sorry also sorry for that random ass sex scene

“Time heals all wounds.”

It was a saying Peter had heard since he was a kid. It was a saying that everyone knew and had a general understanding of what it meant. But he was beginning to think that maybe, for some people, it worked in the opposite. Roman was lucky. It worked for him but it left him with scars. Closing up the wounds of loss and healing over into some cold, empty and hardened scar that was jagged on the edges but just smooth enough to pass for normal if you didn’t look to close. But Roman was never truly normal in the first place. Those scars were obvious if one knew enough, if one really looked. White lines painting pictures of trauma that only seemed to grow, over and over because he couldn’t catch a fucking break. But Roman hid them well, if not for the occasional angry outburst at someone who didn’t deserve it.

 Peter, outwardly normal as he tried to be, didn’t seem to have changed but something inside seemed to have gone very wrong. Usually he passed through estruses with little problem, but something had gone amiss, and at first he didn’t notice. Not just physical but mental. At first he didn’t notice that Roman didn’t quite look at him the same way, but when he did he kept quiet. For all Roman had to say about ‘let’s not make it weird’, he was really making it weird. Peter didn’t know just how weird he was going to make it.

 

 

            He showed him the night when Peter truly realized something was wrong. The night Andreas was to go through with his proposed plan of stealing a truck full of cargo. It wasn’t something he truly agreed with. It wasn’t theft that was the problem but what might happen if it got back to Destiny. It was something bigger than he usually dealt with and he didn’t want her getting mixed up in shit she didn’t need to be. But he agreed, albeit begrudgingly since it was him who was the bait. It was planned weeks in advance and he was having second thoughts because he felt as though he may have been coming down with some sort of stomach issue that involved days of intestinal distress and abdominal cramping.

 

            Going back on his word was meaningless, as he was going to have to deal with pain anyway. Be it being hit by a car or turning, which was what was planned, he was going to have to turn. He’d turned sick before; the moon waited for no man and nor did the wolf. This would be the first time running with anyone but himself though. The first time with a pack; and alone, he could suffer, but not together. He’d truly hate to slow them down.

 

            He’d spent the day like he usually did, avoiding most people and feeling steadily more anxious as the night drew nearer. Waiting, waiting…He wanted it over with. He wanted to stop being filled with this nervous energy. It was always like this; he preferred the change to the waiting because at least then it was done and over with. When night fell, as they were stationed along the highway waiting for already stolen goods to come through, Peter readied himself. He disrobed and flung himself in front of an oncoming semi.

 

            It hurt, that was no surprise. It hurt like getting hit by a semi should, and for a moment he was sure he blacked out. But what came next, as the man stood over him and attempted to check his pulse, was not what he expected. It was pain from being hit but that was it. That ever building nervousness that now swelled within him, sinking into every muscle, cavity and organ, did not disperse. It remained and so did his human body; he physically could not turn. He tried; so desperate he called to the wolf himself hoping that since he was supposed to turn he could turn back, but there was no answer. There was nothing. He could feel it there, but it was trapped. Trapped and desperate to escape but it made no connection with him other than terror and a sense of fight or flight.

 

            But at the moment he couldn’t move. He was still winded and hurt from being hit and the man was trying to speak to him but he could barely make out what he said by the pounding of his heart in his ears. His intention was to terrify the man into showing him a side of reality that few knew existed. To make him question everything, so that when the truck was stolen who would believe him? Would he even believe himself? But all that came was the pack, still sticking to the plan but it was clear he’d clearly fucked it up.

 

            It worked, so to speak. It distracted the man long enough so that Peter could limp away into the darkness like a wounded animal as they surrounded him, until he was begging on his knees and praying to God despite the fact that it was clear the man had never prayed before, and if he wasn’t so confused he might find it hilarious. Andreas still managed to take the truck and leave him there on the side of the road in confusion. Peter was forced to walk home, gathering the clothes he’d left in the woods and slipping them on as he walked.

 

            Everything hurt and his body felt like it was going to explode, and God he wished it would. He felt like he was twitching like a crack addict and he stumbled with every other step. At one point he fell, and for a moment he stayed there, on his hands and knees begging to make this stop. He could feel the dirt under his fingers and rocks pressing into his knees through his jeans. For a moment it reminded him of what he was, what he should be doing. His body seized momentarily, the wolf shifting and trying to break free but it was subdued seconds later.

 

            He hung his head low, facing the ground and nearly curling against himself as he very nearly howled; he groaned out loudly in what was almost a scream in pure despair. What mixed in with it were the snarls, growls of something animal that couldn’t escape. When he finally found the courage to move he crawled forward some, working up enough momentum to actually stand. Stumbling into a walking position, gripping the trees for support. The feel of his nails digging into the bark and the bark into his flesh was all the more unpleasant. Still he pressed forward, exhausted and in a particularly torturous kind of agony. He wasn’t even sure where to go. He’d been staying at Roman’s but he didn’t know if he wanted to deal with him right now. Even worse would be Destiny.

 

            He loved her, but sometimes she got way too far up his ass about things. This would be one of those things. Destiny would know what was happening, and in some way this was probably Peter’s fault. He would be scolded or she would express things to him that confused the shit out of him. It was almost worse being with someone who knew more than him than with someone who knew nothing at all.

 

            By the time he made it to Roman’s door he found that walking was too difficult, and as he pushed his way through the ridiculous rotating glass wall that was his entryway he collapsed onto the carpet. He stained it with dirt and blood, and Roman was probably going to be pissed but Peter didn’t give a shit. He didn’t really expect Roman to be there. Honestly he expected him to be out fucking a hooker while he had the night alone but instead he found him on the couch, and it took him a moment to realize he was looking at him in confusion.

 

            He also noted that apparently being alone was the perfect time to do lines and Peter had honestly thought he’d quit that.

“Did you not learn your fucking lesson already?” Peter asked, referring to the fact that he ended up in a coma from overdosing.

“I know how to be responsible-what the fuck are you doing here?” Roman asked.

“I…I don’t know.” Peter said, standing and dragging himself to the couch before collapsing. Maybe a little too close to Roman for either of their tastes but Roman could fucking move, he didn’t want to. Well, truthfully, he did. He wanted to move; to run, to be free. His mind was human but his heart was begging to follow the wind. But his body…his body was something else. It was tired and it hurt, and it was like a broken prison that kept him there. “I couldn’t turn, I-..I fucking tried, I…” He trailed off, no true sentence or semblance of words coming to his mind that mad sense until it did. “I tried to force it. It didn’t even work then.”

 

            Roman leaned forward and grabbed a lit cigarette from the table; one he hadn’t noticed, taking a drag from it and holding it for him. He took it and breathed deeply, sucked in the nicotine hoping it would calm his nerves but his fingers still shook as he held it there. Exhaling smoke that wavered in shaky breaths; everything shook minutely. He was almost surprised Roman wasn’t more worried, or more curious even. But he also knew Roman was high, just not sure how high.

“Is that why you look like shit?”

“Fuck you,” he grumbled out. “I feel like I’m gonna fuckin’ explode; there’s all this tension and I can’t get rid of it. It’s like adrenalin or some shit, something to make the turn bearable but it’s...stuck here.”

 

            Roman took the cigarette from him, taking a drag again and placing it back in the ashtray. He didn’t put it out, just let it burn, and Peter focused his attention on the embers to try to focus on just _something_. But then…then Roman made it weird. Really fucking weird. When he spoke it broke the silence, and it startled him but what he said startled him even more. So weird that he wasn’t sure he’d heard it right until he realized he had. He’d sat there for a moment, averting Peter’s gaze. It wasn’t nervous, it was just thinking, waiting, wondering.

“You want me to blow you or something?” Roman asked.

“Are you fucking high?” Peter retorted; the first thing that came to his mind even though he already _clearly_ knew the answer.

“Yeah,” Roman responded nonchalantly.

“This is a stupid time for you to start making jokes. It’s not funny.”

 “It’s a little funny…your reaction, I mean. But it’s not a joke. I’m serious.”

“Why the hell would you want to do that?”

“Because you’re making me feel twitchy and it’s not just the coke.”

 

            Peter hesitated for a moment, running a hand down his face and letting his fingers rest at the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not…You don’t even know if that will help and I’m %100 in a different state of mind than last time. You said don’t make it weird. You’re making it really goddamn weird.”

“It’s already weird as shit. There’s nowhere weirder to go from here, Peter. It’s not a big deal.”

“Tomorrow you’re gonna wake up sober, and you’re really going to regret this.”

“Probably, but that’s tomorrow.”

 

            Peter was silent for a moment before mumbling something that ended with ‘So fucking stupid’. It was likely an insult aimed at Roman.

“Whatever,” he mumbled. “Just do it. You obviously want to. Can’t get any more awkward than whatever the fuck this is.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so disappointed to get a blow job,”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who says ‘Don’t make this weird’ and then turns around and does exactly that, way more times than acceptable.”

 

            Despite the fact that Peter feigned such disappointment, Roman still ended up on his knees between Peter’s legs and he fought so hard to not look at him, because not only did he want to crawl out of his skin literally, now he wanted to just to escape the awkwardness of this entire situation. He vaguely remembered wanting Roman to blow him at one point anyway, but that was then and this was now and the fact that he’d wanted it in the first place made him feel even weirder.

 

            He spent a good few minutes trying to work him up, and it may have been that his body had other ideas but Peter wasn’t very receptive.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Sort of…I’ve had more girls suck my dick than I remember. If I can even get to that point, fucking Christ do you not feel anything down here on a good day?”

“I’d rather rip all my skin off right now than get a blowjob, so you’re going to have to work a little harder.”

“Think of tits or something, then.”

 

            Peter wasn’t sure how he was just going to ‘think of tits’, like he was such a simple man he’d come thinking of boobs. All he could think about was why the fuck Roman thought this was the first thing to go to, to try to get him to calm down. Not weed or fuck, even one of the tranquilizers he knew Roman kept lying around like it was normal. He could only imagine that Roman just wanted to blow him, which was weird but…kind of hot. He didn’t really know why it was hot, even. He’d never taken notice of being attracted to Roman other than realizing that, from a subjective standpoint, he wasn’t awful looking.

 

            But here he was, between his legs ready to do something that was not at all straight, which he had assumed Roman was until recently. But Roman was sort of at his mercy and that was…something. Because he knew how the man was. He was something powerful, socially anyway. A fucking billionaire, polished and pristine sitting in tight black jeans and a v-cut shirt that hung off him so loosely despite the fact that it seemed it should fit him. But Peter was nothing in the world Roman lived in. He was a lesser being, something that Roman should truthfully look down upon if he was like the rest of his peers. He steeped himself in debauchery frequently and maybe he was just willing to take it a little further.

 

“Those must’ve been some great tits,” Roman remarked, and Peter realized now how hard he was.

“It wasn’t tits…who the fuck just thinks about tits?”

“Do you feel better?” Roman asked, deciding not to comment on that.

“I…I mean I did, before you reminded me.” Peter mumbled, having now realized that for a moment he didn’t feel quite as nervous.

Roman laughed at him and Peter was about to retort until he suddenly pushed his thumb beneath the head of his cock and that effectively silenced him, if only for a moment. Roman seemed way more amused about this than Peter liked and he really wanted to give him a piece of his mind but every time he wanted to speak Roman did something that made him forget how to form words.

 

He bathed the skin there with his tongue and truthfully, it was not so much that he was good at it so much as it was a different sort of thrill. The same thrill that he had a company mogul between his legs and doing to him what Roman had had so many girls do to him simply because he could; because he asked. And Roman had asked this time, asked to be on the other side. So, admittedly, his skills were subpar but he was fun to watch. Even when he took him down, or tried. As wide as he could open his jaw he still had a gag reflex.   

 

Regardless it didn’t take him long to get off, but before he did so he suddenly had the overwhelming to _not_ come in his mouth; he didn’t think Roman would like it. But he wasn’t fast enough and as he pulled his head back by the hair he ended up coming half in his mouth and half on his chin. He looked annoyed and confused, and didn’t have the time to close his mouth or swallow even if he wanted to and he ended up hanging his head forward slightly, causing it to drip down to the carpet.

“What the fuck?” Roman asked, unceremoniously wiping his chin with the back of his hand and staring back at him from the floor. “Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t want to come in your mouth. It’s …kinda gross. I was being courteous.”

“I’ve eaten leeches before, I don’t give a shit. Really didn’t taste that bad, either.” Roman stood from the floor, stumbling slightly as he did. Not because he was intoxicated, but probably because he was 90% limbs. Like some kind of ungraceful spider. He made quick of becoming decent but realized that was as far as he wanted to do anything.

 

            In a sense, Roman’s plan had worked. He still felt anxious and adrenalized but at the same time he was so incredibly tired that he almost didn’t care. Roman appeared to notice, and Peter had accidentally fallen asleep for two seconds it seemed.

“You want me to help you up to the bedroom?”

“I can walk…”

“Can you? Because you just fell through the door a few minutes ago.”

“You’re right…” Peter said, suddenly kicking his shoes off so that he could lay on the couch. “I think it’s better if I stay here.”

“You’re gonna fuck up my couch.”

“I’m gonna fuck up your face if you don’t leave me alone.”

 

            Not unlike the last time he spoke to Roman before sleeping, he heard him laugh and head off into the house. He just hoped that this time he didn’t wake up to him curled against him and crying. The night went through uneventful, though. He awoke that morning in silence, a pillow tucked under him and a blanket thrown over his body. The previous nights events were a blur to him but he realized, quite quickly, that something wasn’t right. That he shouldn’t be at Roman’s on his couch, and then he remembered that he hadn’t turned. He remembered feeling anxious and awful and for a minute he couldn’t remember how he’d fallen asleep.

 

            Then he had the sudden memory of Roman giving him a blowjob but that had to have been a dream. A weird one for Peter to have but a dream nonetheless. But it seemed so real… He just couldn’t figure out why he would have wanted to. He did remember Roman being high as fuck when he came in so maybe that had something to do with it.

“I thought you were dead or some shit,” Roman said suddenly, startling Peter into realizing he was sitting at the island with a cup of coffee and a tablet.

“No…I feel like shit though.” He stretched out along the couch, feeling sore and incredibly nauseated. Still he couldn’t help but wonder why he had this memory, and it would probably be a mistake but he felt he needed to ask.

“Am I fuckin’ insane or did you suck my dick last night?”

 

            Roman was quiet for a minute, avoiding his gaze and staring into a cup of coffee that Peter had a feeling was cold by this point, until he cleared his throat and spoke.

“Uh…no, I did. But I was pretty fucked up. It made sense for some reason.”

“And that’s all?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

 

            For some reason, right then, he was feeling incredibly combative. As he layed there he couldn’t help but think about all the times he caught Roman staring at him like he either had two heads, or Roman just wanted to get in his pants.

“Because you keep staring at me,” he said, feeling this may be as good a time as ever to let Roman know that this shit was creepy and he’d better have an explanation for it.

“You’re kind of the only person here.”

“And I was the only person here for a while until we fucked and then you just look like you want to get in my pants 24/7. It’s really fucking weird.”

 

            Roman let out an annoyed groan and stood from where he sat, taking the cup with him and dumping what little remnants remained in the sink. He stood there for a moment, back rested against the counter looking pensive at the floor.

“It was kind of a big thing, Peter…”

“You said you were going to forget about it.”

“I can’t just make myself forget shit.”

“Technically you can.”

“I’ve never used it on myself, I don’t want to make myself actually forget something important.”

 

            Peter couldn’t say he was surprised but it did make things more complicated. He really wished it didn’t. He could remember Miranda talking about how they didn’t have to make it weird, that it was natural and all that. But this was something different and Roman seemed to actively be giving him bedroom eyes and he didn’t like it.

“I really…” Peter let out a muffled groan as he pulled himself up further on the couch, rubbing one of his temples as the shift in position was not friendly on his head. “Really don’t know how well I can trust you if you’re trying to get into my pants.”

“I’m not!” Roman protested.

“So you just blew me last night because it totally ‘made sense’ to do so, not because you keep looking at me the way you have been for weeks.”

“Peter…I was high, alright? I kind of didn’t…I didn’t care. Social norms and all that were secondary.”

“So I just have to avoid you when you’re high, because it’s totally fine for you to want to suck me off then, right?” Peter asked, and he really should have dropped it miles back but damn if he wasn’t, for whatever reason, looking for a fight. Maybe it was because he hadn’t turned last night, everything felt fucked up.

“No! I mean… I don’t know, maybe-why are you making me talk about this?” Roman asked exasperated.

“Maybe? So how the fuck am I supposed to stick around here if I have to…worry about you undressing me with your fucking eyes every time I’m around, because that’s really fucking creepy.”

“The whole reason this is happening is so you wouldn’t leave in the first place!” Roman shouted, clear now that he was moving past just exasperation and he was probably starting to get angry. It seemed to be catching because it made Peter feel even more annoyed.

“I did this shit for you because I didn’t want to fuck up again and have you leave. I did this for you because I needed you to stay with me, because you were acting like a fucking psycho, and I didn’t want to bring some hooker into the house- into some place she didn’t need to be, because nothing about this place- or any of this, is fucking normal! How am I supposed to explain to some girl “Hey, can my friend fuck you until he tires out? It might be hours but that’s cool, you charge by the half hour right?” No, Peter. So I did this shit myself.

And I knew it was a mistake, but I did it anyway because I just--…” Roman stopped himself, realizing he was rambling now more than anything.

“You’re acting like this is my fault; that because I did something for you, something you honestly should be more fucking grateful about instead of sitting there telling me you don’t trust me…Fuck you, seriously. Who the fuck just wakes up and starts their day off with a goddamn argument like it’s their morning coffee?”

For the moment Peter was truly floored; what Roman was saying was making a lot of sense and he was beginning to realize just how irrational he was being, which even in his confused state was very much not like him. He opened his mouth to speak but was silenced when Roman spoke again, because he seemed like he was on a tangent now and he wasn’t going to shut up until he’d said everything he needed to.

 

“So just get this shit straight; No, I’m not trying to get into your pants. But you can’t expect me to just forget about all this shit. I’m sorry I don’t find you fucking repulsive and that it wasn’t horrible sex. But there’s bigger shit to worry about, which is why I was waiting for you to get up and _not_ argue with me for five minutes. Pryce said he might have some more information about Spivak and there’s a place out of town where he used to do business. It’s probably a shit lead but I thought we could check around there and see if we can find something like…I don’t know,” he gesticulated for a moment as he thought, “A fucking flying lizard dungeon or some shit.”

“Okay…”Peter said, crawling off the couch. “Sorry. Just…let me change clothes or take a whores bath or something.”

 

            As he did what he set out to do, climbing the stairs and dragging out some clothes from the drawer he used, he considered the former; everything he’d just said. He now felt guilty; very guilty. Roman had caught some kind of feelings for him and Peter didn’t feel the same way…It was totally one-sided, right? But then he remembered actually getting turned on just thinking about the fact that who was blowing him _was_ Roman, but maybe that was just circumstance.

            So maybe it made sense for both of them. It wasn’t feelings, much as it was a sudden attraction. Something that hadn’t truly been exposed to them before and now it was like they’d opened Pandora’s box. So maybe it wasn’t unusual, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a problem. That didn’t mean that somewhere, further down the line, this was going to seriously complicate things. That Peter might have to turn Roman down because he wasn’t looking for anything with him. He _used_ him, and that made it worse. He did this; Roman was right. He could say he couldn’t help it, but that was the same kind of argument people used when they raped someone and blamed it on male hormones and short skirts. Which was bullshit.

 

            Peter went from feeling angry, to guilty, to depressed in a manner of minutes and he was beginning to wonder if it was more than just the change, or this had something to do with the fact that calling on the wolf again could make him a vargulf. He remembered how testy it had made him, but it was usually anger, less guilt. He swallowed his emotions the best he could and headed downstairs in silence and gestured to Roman that he was ready to leave. He waited for him in the car and as they drove it was with a relative silence. It was Peter who broke it.

“Do you think even after we rescue her she’ll want anything to do with us?” Peter asked.

“Miranda?”

“Yeah…I mean look at the shit we got her into.”

“I don’t know…it’s her decision.”

“Do you care?” Peter asked, not quite sure what drove him to that question. “Do you still love her?”

“Why are you asking so many damn questions today…I don’t know, do you?”

 

            Peter was quiet while he thought on it, and truth be told, he wasn’t sure.

“Not like Letha…Maybe it’s just circumstantial. But we owe it to her to get her out of there. If she wants to leave, that’s…fine, I guess. If she wants to stay, that’s fine too. Do you?”

“I don’t…I don’t know if I ever did,” Roman mumbled. “I still have feelings for her I guess but…I think maybe it’s because I didn’t really have anyone else. She was the only one that showed me any kindness for a while until you got back...”

“This is fucking stupid,” Peter mumbled. “This entire thing.”

“Yeah.”

 

            They drove in silence for a little while longer. The motion of the car seemed average at first but after a while it seemed to do something to him unpleasant. He’d been nauseas since earlier but he actually felt like he was about to throw up. He shifted slightly in his seat to lean against it heavily, breathing out a discontent sigh and closing his eyes so that maybe the view of everything flying by far too fast was making things worse.

“You good?” Roman asked.

 

            Peter waved him off and tried to quell the churning in his stomach but despite his best efforts they seemed to be in vein. It was at the point where he knew there was no stopping it, but he could at least try to hold it off.

“Stop,” Peter said suddenly.

“What?”

“The car, Roman, fuck…” he breathed out, annoyed that he had to explain himself.

“Hold on,” was his response, and though he kept his eyes closed he could feel the car shift as Roman attempted to pull over at the closest available location. He had that awful feeling in his mouth where everything seemed to be far too over salivated and if Roman didn’t hurry up Peter was definitely going to fuck up his car. But he waited, and he took in slow, deep breathes and exhaled them at the same speed in an attempt to stop the inevitable for just a bit longer.

            When the car finally came to a stop he yanked the door open with nearly enough force to damage the hinges it felt like, before he vomited in what was most likely the worst ways he’d ever done in his life. It fucking hurt; every time his stomach contracted and expelled whatever had been there, which was pretty much nothing, it felt like someone was yanking on every organ he had. He could never remember projectile vomiting either, thinking that had to have been pretty rare or some shit that only happened in movies but he was now proven very, very wrong.

 

            He had to grip at the side of the door to steady himself, to tether himself to the rest of his body because the force of it all sent his body into such intense tremors he was worried that if he didn’t hold on he might end up falling out of the car. It went on for far too long, though it probably wasn’t, and after he composed himself the best he could he pulled himself back into the car. He was shaking and sweaty, breath labored as his body tried to recover from whatever bullshit that just was.

“Do you want me to go back?” Roman asked as Peter finally shut the car door. “You could have told me you didn’t want to go if you were sick or something.”

“It’s fine,” he said, his voice hoarse and winded. “I don’t have the luxury of sitting around like a pussy while God knows what’s happening to Miranda and Nadia. Even if there’s not shit there, I’m not dying, I’m fine…”

“I don’t need you there. I’ll be fine by myself.”

“A few minutes ago you were telling me just how much you needed me. It’s fine, just fucking drive.”

 

            Roman was annoyed for a moment but he seemed more concerned than angry, but he didn’t fight him on this and headed on. He rested there for the time being, with a hand wound around his middle to attempt to quell the throbbing pain that still remained there. It was lessening but it was strange. He hurt in places he couldn’t even identify. It was spreading, radiating outwards to the point where he wasn’t even sure where the source was.

 

            It had abated some by the time they finally pulled up at a dilapidated old building in a town he’d never heard of. It was far out of the way and away from the rest of the town, with no sign or any sign of life that anyone had ever done anything there in the past decade.

“God damn it, Pryce…” Roman mumbled, exiting the car and heading towards the entrance. It was almost funny to Peter, to watch him make his way into such a state of decay, when he himself was dressed impeccably and contrasted it in every way. Black as he usually wore, and Peter knew he owned other colors but he so clearly fit the bill of ‘emo vampire’.

 

            But him, he thought as he followed him in, was not quite so out of place here. Torn and faded jeans that probably should’ve been replaced ages ago and a button up that had long ago lost whatever true color it may have been. The jacket he wore was nearly falling apart as well. Not to say he truly belonged there, but he looked more the part than Roman who should have at least worn something that might not get fucked up, but it seemed he didn’t know the meaning of that.

 

            It smelled like decay and dust inside; it made his nose hurt and the feeling of nausea begin to return to him and he prayed that it stayed just that. It seemed to, at one point be, some family practice of some sort. It may have been converted from a home but as of yet there was nothing interesting. There was graffiti and liquor bottles that he knew had not come from Spivak, and it was clear that maybe some homeless people had been camping here for a while but it was currently empty. It made him wonder if anything would be worth finding at this point if it had already been ransacked.

 

            For a good while it was a crapshoot, but as Peter was leaning against one of the walls due to the fact that he felt exponentially exhausted, he noticed something bizarre about a seemingly innocuous bookshelf that rested on one of the far walls. It looked like there might have been something behind it. He headed over to it to pull it away from the wall with a fair amount of effort; the thing was really heavy. As soon as he dragged it away he found behind it a door with a padlock securing it shut.

 

            With a silent understanding Roman grabbed a piece of debris from the floor; a piece of concrete it looked like and smashed it against the lock a few times before it broke. It fell to the floor with a clatter that echoed like the only sense of life in such a dead place. Turning the knob, the door creaked open on its own due to the building having settled and there being little to hold the door shut anymore. What wafted forth was the true scent of death. Something alive had decayed and though what it might have been could perhaps be long gone by now, the scent had been trapped down here for so long that it still existed. As the door remained open it began to disperse, luckily.

            Peter felt that sudden wave of intense nausea return and he had to cover his face with his sleeve and turn away, even with the scent growing less offensive by the second. He had to will down the bile that threatened to creep into his throat, throat he already felt burn and he let out a heavy breath to try to stop the feeling. It helped for the moment.

“You don’t have to go down there.”

“Wouldn’t want you to trip, fall and die down there alone. It’s dark as shit.”

“So two of us falling down the stairs is going to make it better?”

“Maybe one of us won’t break their leg.”

 

            Roman breathed out a laugh and pulled his phone from his pocket to turn on the assistive light. It was truly dark down there. A blackness that swallowed almost every bit of light except for the phone in front of him. If Peter had to guess there were no windows down there at all, and there was certainly no power. They made their way down slowly, and the further down they got the more disturbing it seemed to be. There were marks on the walls, scratches in the concrete and nails in the cracks. Long and claw like, broken off at the root with bits of dead and rotted tissue still clinging to their edges.

 

When they reached the floor the light revealed expansive trails of dried blood and long dried up viscera that had withered into nearly nothing. What it had come from was yet to be seen, but shelves along the walls held even more disturbing sights. Suspended in jars of formaldehyde were animals, only something wasn’t right about them. There were rats, mice, even cats. Tumorous and deformed, with fingers longer than they should be and teeth that grew through their skin. Everything could more or less be identified, except for the bizarre mass that seemed to be floating in one of the jars. Something large with a nervous system branching off from it, tendrils reaching upwards and cut off at the ends as though it’d been cut away from something.

 

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of them, like they should say something but neither of them could. This was the kind of mad scientist shit that shouldn’t exist, and that was knowing what little he knew about the White Tower. So they continued in silence, following a trail of blood that seemed to stretch forever into the darkness. It branched off ,and the flashlight revealed a cage in the corner who’s bars had been ripped apart from the inside. There were other similar cages lining the walls except that something had broken into them, drug something out.

The trail continued and revealed long dead bodies and paw prints that intercepted with the trails. Skeletons and bits of tissue strewn about, stuck to the ground like gum. The trail ended at some poor, pathetic looking creature lying dead on the ground. It appeared to, at one point, have been a dog. It was monstrous, it’s bones fused and its skin mummified to its form. In its jaw was its on flesh, or what was left of it. It had died tearing out its own guts.

 

Peter wasn’t sure just entirely what it had been about the place that caused the reaction it did; it could’ve been a number of things but he experienced a nausea so intense that he barely had a chance to turn away from Roman before spontaneously vomiting. There was not quite as much as before, but his body fought so hard to expel whatever it thought he had in him. It was agonizing.

“Jesus Christ!” Roman said, backing up suddenly to avoid anything that had the chance to get on his clothes.

 

            For a moment when his body was not internally imploding he let out a groan that was almost a growl, long and deep as it rumbled from his chest because he felt like somehow this helped him. He braced himself against the wall and rode out nothing but dry heaves after a while. Every one of them made him ache, more and more each time. It was so fucking powerful he felt like there was something in him; a small hole, a space from which something reached through and pulled everything towards it.

 

“Come on,” Roman said as soon as he finally recovered, “There’s no reason to stick around here anymore. I’ll call Pryce and have him send someone down here to get this shit.”

“You don’t want to take any of it?” Peter asked, again his voice hoarse and his lungs feeling like they were on fire.

“Fuck no. I don’t know what kind of shit’s gone on down here, I’m not touching any of it.”

 

            For some reason this was funny to him and he let out a soft chuckle before Roman lead him to the stairs with the only source of light they had. Once they were out of the basement the air seemed clearer and even with the dust and decay it almost seemed like paradise. Roman slid the bookshelf in front of the door again with his shoulder and then hastily brushed off whatever had gotten on him.

“So did you just get too disgusted or…”

“I don’t know,” Peter replied, but his voice came out broken like it hadn’t expected him to speak. “It just happened.”

“Does this normally happen to you?”

“I mean…no, not that I can remember. I’ve never not been able to turn.”

“And this doesn’t worry you?”

“It does but there’s not shit I can do about it. I don’t want to talk to Destiny because I just don’t want to deal with her right now. I’m sure she knows why but with my luck it’s probably something I’ve fucked up and I’m not in the mood to listen to her chew me out.”

 

            The minute they got outside Peter smelled rain, and the dull and dark grey that stretched on above the treetops only helped cement the fact that they’d probably end up wet. He hurried to the car to avoid it. He felt shitty enough as it was, he didn’t want to feel shitty and wet. When Roman joined him they entered another small period of silence before he spoke again.

“Why would he just leave all that shit there?”

“Something went wrong,” Peter said. “Whatever it was down there got out and killed everything else. So he just locked it up and left…Maybe he thought he’d come back for it later, I don’t know.”

“It’s a pretty stupid move to leave behind so much evidence.”

“The place was out in the middle of nowhere. He’d probably already started moving practices anyway and was just using that place to do weird shit. If there’s no patients, who’s going to suspect anything?”

“Still, it’s sloppy…what was that down there?”

“A dog, I think.”

“A dog or a wolf?”

“There’s not much of a difference.” This last part came out quick and annoyed, because he was suddenly feeling ill again but in a different sense. There was pain radiating from low in his abdomen and it made him lean forward slightly, clasping his hand there and letting out a low whimper.

“Dude,” Roman said. “Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” Peter snapped out. “Why the fuck would I know? My stomach really hurts…”

“Maybe you have food poisoning,” Roman said, “Don’t you dare shit in my car.”

“No promises,” Peter said. He was pretty sure that wasn’t the problem but he wanted to put a little fear into him.

 

            The pain only increased to that point where he wasn’t sure where it was coming from again. He knew he felt pressure in his pelvis and pain that radiated somewhere from low in his abdomen, into his back and his hips. Something hurt where there shouldn’t even be anything it seemed like. He leaned forward slightly and pressed his head against the glove box and let out a heavy breath. This didn’t alleviate shit.

 

            With little to no warning something very bizarre happened; every one of his pelvic muscles seemed to stop working. There was something hot and wet seeping between his legs and spreading down his thighs faster than he could comprehend it. Try as he might to stop it he found nothing wanted to function like it should and he was glad he didn’t have to pee because he probably would have pissed himself, but at this point he wouldn’t even know if he had because everything was getting very wet very fast.

 

            But then the scent of copper hit his nose so quickly that it felt like he’d inhaled an entire jar of pennies. He looked down and shifted his thighs apart to see dark red very quickly overtaking the color of Roman’s upholstery. It was trailing down his pants and reaching the fold where his knees bent, and traveling in tiny rivulets downwards. He was beginning to feel faint but he wasn’t sure if it was from blood loss or shock.

“Oh fuck…” he muttered, the only thing he could think to say at the moment. He wasn’t sure how Roman didn’t notice it before now, maybe it was because he was literally right in it but with what he was currently hemorrhaging being Roman’s main food source Peter thought he’d have been a little more perceptive. It could have been that he was irresponsibly texting and driving, and he assumed it was probably Pryce, but if he was so unresponsive to this then what would stop him from ramming into someone’s car?

“Oh, fuck!” he finally said, mirroring Peter’s reaction other than the fact that it seemed far more shocked. “What the fuck happened?!”

“I…I really don’t know.”

“Jesus Christ it’s fucking everywhere…” Roman said, and he could feel the car pick up speed and watched the way everything Roman did was nervous. “Just…don’t fucking die on me I’ll get you to a hospital.”

“No!” Peter suddenly shouted, fear shooting through him at the suggestion nearly as bad as the pain that ravaged his abdomen.

“Seriously? You’re bleeding out here, this shit can kill you.”

“They’re gonna see I’m not human,” Peter ground out, suffering though a wave of stabbing pain somewhere deep in his hips. “I don’t go to doctors for this fucking reason, they’re going to see and they’re going to stick me in some goddamn lab somewhere.”

“Peter…” Roman said, exasperated and running a hand down his face. “Please. Will you let me take you to Pryce? The shit we’ve got there’s better than any hospital and he knows about me, and he’s got too much shit riding on the line to let your secret out.”

“You’re going to do it if I say no anyway,”

“Yeah, I will. So fucking get over it, and just stay awake. I swear to God if you…If you fucking die on me I’m going to have Pryce bring you back and kick your ass.” Roman said, and Peter could hear in his voice the way it broke that this really affected him.

“You know I bleed out on a monthly basis,” It wasn’t entirely true, but even so Peter didn’t think he was going to die. He would come back if he did, but he really didn’t want to. He wouldn’t be right and he knew it. But he wasn’t really thinking much at all; everything was really foggy and his vision was sort of dark on the edges every so often. 

“This is fucking different, you know it is.” Roman snapped, and with shaking fingers scrolled through his phone. “Do you even have a normal blood type?”

“No,” Peter responded, “Unless Pryce has fucking werewolf blood it’s not gonna help me.”

“Great,” Roman said, sarcastic and exasperated as he continued going through his phone. “Maybe he can find a way to scrape it off the fuckin’ car seat and put it back in you or something.” Maybe he was using sarcasm to mask pain, but he was definitely being sarcastic with this one. Peter knew Roman wasn’t _that_ stupid. Well, he wasn’t stupid in general but he did lack some sort of social grace and street smarts when it came to certain things.

            He finally seemed to find Pryce’s number, seemingly having scrolled through several times. He probably had texted him already and could have gotten it easier but Roman was terrified and at the moment lacking common sense. It rang for a few seconds before he apparently picked up, though Peter only vaguely heard one side of the conversation.

 

“Pryce, listen. Plans have changed, you’re gonna have to hold off on using the shit in Spivak’s basement as scientific jerk-off material. Meet me at the back entrance, alone, and bring a stretcher. What I’m about to do doesn’t leave the two of us. No doctors, no scientists, just us…Yes it is a medical emergency, and I know you’re not a fucking actual doctor but this is top secret shit…If it comes to it then fine, get someone else in and make them sign some fuckin’ vow of secrecy or some shit but I don’t want this getting out. I’ll talk to you when I get there,” Roman hung up suddenly and shoved his phone into his pocket.

“Top secret shit,” Peter said with a laugh. It wasn’t funny but he was feeling a little loopy. “You probably should’ve explained it better.”

“I don’t want to have to...think about this shit, or think about what the fuck I’m going to say…because I don’t know what’s going on and I’m trying to concentrate on the fucking road so you don’t end up dead for another reason.”

“I appreciate your whole vow of secrecy shit.”

“I don’t need you locked up in a lab either,” Roman said. “Where…where the fuck are you even bleeding from?”

“Well it’s definitely not my dick,” Peter responded. “And I can’t even…fucking stop it, all of my muscles just stopped working down here. I don’t even know if my legs would work.” He could move them but they felt very weak. The bleeding seemed a little slower but at this point it didn’t matter, because anything in the vicinity of his pelvis was sticky and wet with blood. He wasn’t even sure if it was all blood; some of it felt like skin. Tissue, something from the inside. “I think it’s slowing down but…not stopping.”

“How are you so calm?”

“Because I’m…I’m really fighting not to pass out and everything else is trivial.”

  

            Anything Roman may have said after this point was lost on him, because Peter clung desperately to the thread of consciousness. He was only awake enough to know that he was, but anything else that happened might as well have been happening half way around the world. He didn’t fully come back to reality until he realized Roman had pulled him from the car, picking him up like he was nothing but the sensation of falling was enough to wake him up and he grasped desperately to any part of him he could reach. He was carrying him bridal style and he had no choice to wrap his arms around his shoulders and neck. He took quick strides along the grass that lead to the back entrance of the institute, which Peter really hadn’t even known was there. He was silent but Peter could hear the anxiety coming from him, with his head rested against his chest. He heard the way his heart beat hard and fast behind his ribs and for a moment got distracted by the rhythmic pulse. There was not much he could focus on, and to find one thing to focus on was to focus on nothing else.

 

            He pushed through the doors with his shoulder, and before he knew it he was set down on a stretcher.

“Roman…” Pryce said, disappointment and pure exasperation evident in his tone. Like Roman was prone to dragging half dead and bleeding wolves into the institute at all hours and asking Pryce to fix them.

“Shut up, just…fucking fix it.”

“It would be beneficial to us all if you would tell me what ‘it’ is. I am a scientist, not a mind reader.”

            Roman gripped the edges of the stretcher and followed Pryce to an elevator at the far end of the hall. Peter was truly useless on this aspect; he could tell him everything but he could not find the energy to speak.

“We went to check out that place, which was a total shit show, and he kept throwing up and just…this happened,” Roman gestured towards him. “He was talking about stomach cramps and then everything down there just…stopped working.”

“What I don’t understand is why you didn’t simply take him to the nearest hospital instead of driving all the way here. Why, pray tell, is this a matter of utmost secrecy?”

“He’s not human,” Roman said, his tone hushed and quiet. “And we don’t know what the fuck they’re gonna find if they start running tests. He doesn’t even have a human blood type.”

“I see…But in terms of the supernatural my expertise lies in upirs, not…”

“Werewolf,” Roman said.

“…Lycanthropy.”

“Look, I can’t take him anywhere else. Please…”

“I’ll do my best. From what you’ve told me, he appears to be bleeding internally. But if it needs surgery…then there’s nothing I can do. Without a normal blood type there’s nothing for me to replace what he’s lost, and he’s already lost so much.”

“So you’re telling me you can’t fix this…”

“It’s best to prepare for the possibly inevitable.”

“I swear to God I’ll be fine, Roman.” Peter said suddenly.

“I wasn’t aware you could hear us,” Pryce said. “I would have asked you instead.”

“I can I just…I’m fucking tired,” Peter mumbled. “Talking takes too much energy.”

“Do you have anything to add while you still can?”

“I can’t turn. I was supposed to last night and I …I just didn’t,” For a moment Peter lost his train of thought, pausing a few more times than necessary.

 

            He was glad that Pryce didn’t want to press talking to him because at the moment he didn’t really want to concentrate. He thought he may have passed out for a minute because when he came to it was with a sharp pain in his neck and enough energy to lift a truck. He shot up with a gasp with the sudden realization that he was no longer moving but in a room, with Pryce holding a fairly large needle that had apparently gone into his neck.

“I’ve given you a shot of adrenaline, the effects can be quite jarring at first but I assure you that it’s all normal.” He held up a gown with the other hand, “I’d like you to change into this…but if you’re comfortable enough, it may be best to give an external physical exam.”

“I barely know you and you’re already asking to get between my legs,” Peter quipped.

“It’s good to know you’re awake enough to make jokes. You and Roman are perfect for each other.”

 

            Peter tried to deny the fact that he blushed not from the fact that he was about to take his pants off for another guy he barely knew, but that he told him they were perfect for each other. It was stupid, but just what had Roman been letting on that made Pryce think they should be together, or whatever it was that he’d meant?  He pushed away these thoughts similar to the way he roughly pushed down his pants with little to no qualms. It felt disgusting. The movement as it shifted against him; a combination of cold and warm, slick and sticky and he hated it. Pryce moved to gather some gloves from a nearby drawer and slipped them on, pushing gently against Peter’s chest to ease him back onto his back. He noticed Roman seemed annoyed by this entire thing.

 

            Peter wasn’t all that shameful when it came to nudity, but he did feel a little awkward when Pryce pulled his legs apart. He instinctively tried to fight him for a moment before forcing himself to relax.

“Your bleeding seems to have slowed, so whatever it is that is giving you so much distress is beginning to heal on its own…but this actually complicates things.”

 

            Peter jumped slightly when he felt his hand run along his inner thigh, to gather some blood that had made its way there. He felt so exposed and unhappy about this whole thing and really wished he could get into a gown so that they could figure out what was going on, so that he could leave, go home, and sleep for the rest of the day. Fuck, a week maybe. He didn’t want to deal with this. He didn’t currently feel tired but he knew he would.

“Even stranger so is that this is not just blood. Your body is…shedding, from the inside.”

“Is it because he couldn’t turn?” Roman asked.

“As I said before I know next to nothing about lycanthropy. But the good news is, if you’re feeling embarrassed I can barely make out any specific anatomical details beneath all this blood and tissue.”

            He pulled away and pulled the gloves off to toss them in a trashcan that was labeled ‘Biohazard’ before handing him the gown. He really wanted to clean up first but it time was of the essence. He disrobed the rest of the way and slipped the gown on. He was kind enough to at least give him something to cover up with.

 

            The way down the expansive hallways was unusually quiet and empty. He had to imagine that Pryce had somehow evacuated everyone from wherever it was that they were going. They finally arrived after a few minutes to wherever it was they were going. The biggest thing of interest in the room was a very large, almost intimidating machine in the center of the room that almost resembled an MRI machine without the giant tunnel. Instead it had a smaller tunnel like protrusion that only covered part of it.

“This device is still somewhat experimental but it should be able to let us see most of what we need to in real time,” Pryce said as he urged Peter onto the table. The blood was still slick and he slipped some as he did, having to grab onto the sides to steady himself. He was still a bit woozy.

“It looks like a modified torture device,” Roman commented.

“Your experiences were your own choice, Roman. No one forced you to go through with the procedures.” Peter never really knew what Roman went through those months trying to rid himself of his affliction, but it apparently involved a machine like this. His only response was to wave Pryce off and stand against the wall, absentmindedly biting the knuckle of his index finger like one might bight their nails.

 

            Peter almost felt like a stranger here. Not much to say, awkwardly lying on a table covered in blood and feeling like he wanted to shrink away from the both of them and die in a hole somewhere. He didn’t really like people looking at him too closely. Maybe it’s because in some part of his mind, it was that he thought people might find out what he was if they looked too close. Pryce and Roman of course already knew but it was that instinct that made him want to flee.

“This won’t hurt,” Pryce said as he stepped up to a touch screen control panel near the table. The top part of the machine whirred to life and moved towards his head.

“I probably wouldn’t notice if it did,” Peter said, though it sounded nervous for different reasons than fear of pain.  A screen mounted to the wall next to the table flickered to life and displayed the image of what appear to be the inside of the upper half of his body. He wasn’t sure how he felt about looking at his own skeleton and insides. There was sort of  a disjointed feeling about it, like it wasn’t really him in the first place.

“Fascinating,” Pryce said suddenly. “You have two intertwined nervous systems, one of which connects to the base of your skull instead of the brain. That, however, does not appear to be the problem.”

 

            He jumped slightly when the machine moved again and made a very sudden loud clanking, whirring noise. He let out an annoyed but nervous breath once he had calmed. The machine stopped in the abdominal region and then there was silence, and Peter avoided looking at the screen because it made him uncomfortable to begin with.

“This…this is the problem,” Pryce said. There was something in his voice that did not bode well. Like even in all his years of scientific study he was presented with something that even frightened him. He glanced over at the screen but was presented with no more information than he’d had before, other than looking at his own viscera. It really did seem a mess in there. Pryce, on the other hand, seemed to be both shocked and distressed at whatever it was he was viewing.

“As for the bleeding it’s coming from this,” Pryce said, as he pointed towards the screen. He still wasn’t sure what he was looking at but he could see movement. “It’s as though something has burrowed its way through the wall of your colon, and that wound is now healing but is first…shedding. It’s remarkably similar to endometrial lining. But unlike what happens to a woman, this seemed to happen all at once, causing a very sudden loss in blood and not enough time to replenish it. So while it is not deadly it is certainly not normal. It looks like it is nearly finished…but as for the rest of this.” Pryce gestured to the rest of the screen, around the more central abdominal region. “None of this is normal.”

“Is it going to kill him?” Roman asked suddenly.

“…I don’t know.  I don’t know if this is in relation to his lycanthropy but…all of his abdominal organs have nearly fused together. You said you vomited earlier. Was it more painful than usual?”

“Yes,” Peter said, “And I really don’t think fused organs has anything to do with being a werewolf.”

“That tells me that this is a recent development. Because of the way things have fused, the contraction of your stomach is pulling on everything else. And the central root cause is here,” He gestured to a small mass over the intestines, whichever one it was located over. Looking closer now he saw it there, a mass, with tendrils that reached out and connected to everything. “This is not supposed to be here,”

“Can’t you just remove it? I know you’ve got the technology to...do fucking surgery or something, if we can find his bloodtype…” Roman said desperately.

“Attempting to remove it would most likely result in rapid, catastrophic organ failure. There is no way he would survive the surgery. But despite the fact that this is very abnormal it doesn’t at present, seem to be causing him and true lasting harm. It doesn’t appear to be cancerous, and while it is a very abnormal mass it seems to be functioning as more of an organ than a tumor.”

 

            Peter let out a heavy breath that seemed to remind Pryce that he was truly there in the first place, because he was looking at him more like a fascinating experiment than a person, or whatever he was. Peter had never really considered at any point in his life coming down with something that was truly threatening, from a medical standpoint. But there was something wrong in him and it scared him. Peter wasn’t really afraid to die but the prospect of some foreign body having made a home in the cavern of his abdomen and wrecked his insides was not one he was happy about.

“Is that why I couldn’t turn?”

“Likely…I assume that shifting must involve some extreme bodily manipulations. It would likely kill you.”

“So I can’t ever turn again?” Peter asked a bit hopelessly.

“I can’t say for certain.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? You wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore.”

“No, Roman, it’s not a good thing.” He wasn’t going to sit there and explain to him why, but it was a bad thing. Last night was torture, and suddenly he was feeling very trapped. Or rather the second being in his body was feeling trapped. It made him anxious and nearly on the verge of a panic attack. “Can you at least try to figure out what the fuck it is?”

“I planned on it but it may take some time. There’s a decontamination room with a shower in it down the hall, it might be best for you to clean up while I consider the next course of action. I’ll find you something to wear.”

 

            The next few minutes were a blur, and begrudgingly Peter had to let Roman help him down the hall. He didn’t want to be in a wheelchair but his legs were still not cooperating at full function. He could still stand at least. He felt pathetic, broken and tired. So fucking tired. Tired and associating with someone who didn’t know the meaning of privacy because he followed him into the shower room.

“Have you never heard of privacy? Seriously?” Peter asked, making his way into the shower that was more high tech than anything he’d ever bathed in.

“I don’t need you falling and busting open your skull or some shit.”

“You worry about me way too much.” The spray came to life and for a moment he just stood there, gathering his energy and letting it wash down him. The water came away tinged red and pink, swirling down in almost a hypnotic pattern.

“Your fucking organs are fused. You have some freakish tumor. Does this not worry you?”

“Yeah,” Peter said quietly. “It does. It really fucking scares me. I don’t know if I can go the rest of my life without ever turning again.”

“That seems like more of a blessing than a burden.”

“Just because I don’t turn doesn’t mean I don’t still have an animal in my head who feels trapped. That makes me feel trapped. I don’t like being trapped.”

 

            He made quick work of all the blood and noted that it had not stopped all the way, and very faintly some would trickle down his inner thigh and stop. More than likely he would bleed into whatever clothes he would given but that seemed to be an accepted given. For now he just stood there in silence, and the silence was awkward. He didn’t like standing there showering with Roman just standing there looking broodingly into the distance, thankfully not watching him. He needed him to talk…

“Why do you care so much?”

“What?”

“About what happens to me. You go your whole life doing just fine and not really giving a shit about anyone else like you do me. Why am I different?”

“I…I don’t know, ‘cause you’re my only friend …asshole.”

“I’ve seen you with tons of people.”

“But they’re just people. People who only hang out with me because they know me. But you came in here and didn’t know me other than my name and you couldn’t give a shit how much money I did or didn’t have, or how being associated with me somehow gave you some status. And no it wasn’t conventional but you were the only one who ever cared enough to not act like a fake asshole. But you’re different, aren’t you?”

“Different how?”

“If you could just leave like you did, how could you ever feel the same way?”

Was Roman seriously trying to pick a fight with him right now? In the shower, of all place?

“Look…You know I value your friendship. But I learn not to get attached. Because we run when things get hard, and things get hard a lot. So if you don’t get too attached you can’t hurt as much. I still…thought about you, sometimes. More than the other friends if that makes you feel better.” 

“I guess,” Roman replied.

“Why are you asking me this shit now?”

“Because you started it.”

 

            Roman was right, he did start it. He now found he preferred the silence than being grilled for why he’d left, what seemed like decades ago now. Roman sure knew how to hold a damn grudge. He heard Roman leave for a moment and return seconds later with an arm full of scrubs. He stepped out and Roman handed him a towel, smirking at him with a sort of grin that made Peter want to smack him.

“What the hell is so funny?”

“You look like a really sad, wet puppy.”

“Fuck you,” Peter said, aggressively toweling off his hair to hide the fact that he was laughing quietly at what Roman said. But he was sure Roman knew anyway.

 

            The trip back to the room was easier because he didn’t need quite as much help, but Roman still hovered behind him like some kind of way too tall horsefly. Pryce was very diligently studying a tablet next to a machine that had not been there before he’d left, that he appeared to have wheeled in in his absence.

“In your absence I realized that perhaps the key to understanding what this mystery ailment may be, is to look further inside, and unfortunately as advanced as this machine is it cannot look _inside_ organs. So I’d like to perform an ultrasound. If you could just lay on the table again,” Pryce said, gesturing towards where the table was not only cleaned but covered with a sheet.

 

            Peter realized now, as he made his way onto the table, that he was not missing much at doctors visits. That this was all incredibly unpleasant and invasive in ways he didn’t care for. He’d be fine if he never had to go to one again. Even if Pryce would keep all of his secrets he still didn’t like being looked at like this. So he waited, waited for whatever they would find to tell him it couldn’t be fixed, and he would live the rest of his life half the thing he used to be. He sat exposed, pants low on his hips and his shirt pulled up to his ribs. He was doing okay at ignoring most everything until something very cold touched his skin.

 

            The sensation of the instrument on his skin was also very unpleasant. It was pushed down far into his abdomen and despite the fact that he hadn’t needed to pee before it was pushed against his bladder and irritating him, making him feel like he did. It made him much more antsy than he had been. Pryce was looking between both the screen of the ultrasound and the tablet, and he assumed it was because he still had the scan of the last test they’d done. But still, he looked both confused and impressed. Still he was silent as he typed something into the computer and, for the moment, pulled the instrument from his skin and put it in its designated slot.

“Forgive me for the invasiveness of this question, but have you had sex in the past…six or so weeks?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” Roman asked suddenly, sounding more offended than Peter was by the question.

“A month,” Peter said. “It was a month ago, not six weeks.”

“You’re sure...?”

“Yes I’m sure, but I don’t see how it’s relevant.”

“And do you remember who with?”

“Yes, are you telling me I have some kind of fucked up STD? Because _someone_ is getting their ass kicked for not telling me.”

“If _someone_ wasn’t begging like a fucking dog…” Roman mumbled.

“Shut the fuck up, seriously,” Peter hissed out.

“In a sense…” Pryce said. He looked between the two of them for a moment. “You two…?”

“Yes, once. It’s not a big deal,” Roman defended.

“Twice,” Peter said under his breath.

“That doesn’t fucking count.”

“You two have no idea what you’ve done.” Pryce suddenly seemed more frightened now than confused. “This is not something I thought I’d ever be saying to a _male_ outside of the realm of extreme biological manipulation, but despite the fact that you had sex four weeks ago, you are approximately…six weeks pregnant.”

 

            There was an uncomfortable silence that followed this statement, because for a minute Peter didn’t understand what he said, because what he was saying was impossible in so many realms of things that were. For he was clearly male, having nothing with which to breed like females and yet what Pryce was saying almost made sense. And what reason would he have to lie? But his head was spinning, and he felt as though he was almost about to pass out from the shock because he still couldn’t comprehend it. He almost hoped that Roman would ask, since he seemed to have no problem not holding his tongue when it came to Pryce but he too was silent.

“You’re…going to have to explain this to me because I’m really fucking confused,” Peter said finally, his voice was almost winded and slurred.

“I don’t know if I truly understand it myself…When the two of you had sex, was there anything different?”

“Werewolves have…this thing sometimes. Like a dog in heat, only it happens to both genders.”

“Yes…that makes sense. Your body is clearly special, in the way that you are not human. It changes every month; turns into something else completely, correct?”

Peter only nodded, giving Pryce free reign to continue. “If your body can change like this every month, it is understandable that it does not stop there. During your estrus cycle, it appears as though your body forgoes the normal laws of reproduction and attempts to breed however possible. Whatever may have been releasing eggs is now gone, but the egg itself was apparently released and fertilized somewhere along the wall of your colon…which is a very bizarre place for it to end up, but I digress.

Your body seems to have created a temporary womb, from which it traveled to rest in your abdomen where the womb grew around it and adhered to the rest of your organs. The entire prospect of this is absurd but it’s the only thing that makes sense. Regardless of how it happened you’re definitely pregnant, and further along than you should be considering the timeline because it now has a heartbeat, which isn’t present until six weeks. Meaning for whatever reason the fetus is developing at least two weeks ahead of schedule, and for what reason I cannot say.

But it may have something to do with the fact that not only have you seemingly done the impossible, you have created something that should never exist. A child with both lycanthropy and upirism.”

“No,” Peter said suddenly, and he was still stuck trying to figure it out but he needed to correct him. “It skips a generation. It wouldn’t…It shouldn’t be both.”

“Then I pray that this is the case, but with the fact that your body went through so much trouble to create this child, it seems more likely that it is not the case. Upirs are enough trouble as it is, but one afflicted with another curse…that could be worse. The bloodlust could be insatiable.”

“Can you get rid of it?” Roman asked, and for a moment it shocked Peter to hear him ask that, let alone speak, but Roman was right.

“Don’t you think that’s his choice?” Pryce asked.

“He’s right. I can’t do this…We can’t do this. This was a stupid fucking mistake and there’s just too much shit going on to have to deal with this too.” Peter said.

“…Unfortunately, no, I can’t get rid of it. As I said before, operation is too risky and could result in organ failure, and standard abortion isn’t an option as the womb is no longer connected to anything on the outside.”

 

            Peter took in a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration and to alleviate a sudden headache he felt coming on from all this stress. How the fuck did he get himself into these situations?

“Okay…so let me get this straight. You can’t operate, you can’t get it out, and there’s no exit to this fucking womb. How the _hell_ is it supposed to come out anyway?”

“Your body seems to know what it’s doing. It’s removing any openings to the uterus, but I can only assume it will create new ones for birth. But birth…that could prove an entire new set of problems. Judging by the location of the uterus I can only assume that it will somehow create an opening somewhere near, if not completely through the testicles…But you have very narrow hips, and if it comes to it, since we have no option of operating, we may have to break your pelvis.”

 

            Peter was about to retort, with what he forgot as soon as he heard the doors to the lab open and close and he saw Roman very quickly departing down the hallway.

“Are you fucking serious?” he said, mostly to himself. For all Roman did and said about not wanting Peter to leave him, and he just ditched out on him at a moment where Peter felt his entire world and sense of conventional logic was collapsing around him. The time when Peter really needed Roman, and he left. If he wasn’t outside when he got out; if his car was gone and he ended up having to hike back to Destiny’s and explain everything, he was going to be majorly pissed.

“I’m going to fuck him up,” Peter said under his breath. “He cries every time I leave like he’s a fucking puppy and then he just leaves me.”

“I’m not surprised,” Pryce said, looking over his head out the glass that allowed him to see the hallway. “I know that we haven’t had much interaction in the past, but I implore you to make regular visits to the facility to monitor you. There are a hundred different things that could go wrong with this, and it’s best to prevent that.”

“You sure you just don’t want me to come back because I’m something you can study?”

“Is that what Roman says I’m like?”

“It seems to be the general consensus,” Peter said as he grabbed the sheet from below him and used it to wipe off the gel that had started to become long ago annoying.

“When you see him again, remind him I am doing all I can to try to figure out what Spivak is so that I can bring Nadia and Miranda home safely as soon as possible. Despite my fascination with medical marvels that does not make me a heartless machine, and for the way Roman seems to care for you, you are worth saving.”

“Right,” Peter said sarcastically. “I need to get out of here…And kick his ass.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

 

            The walk down the endless white hallways left him a lot of silence, a lot of time to think. A lot of time for anxiety to build up in him and become trapped just like that wolf of his, to make him so pissed off and scared that he kind of wanted to cry. When they reached the outside, through the same door that they’d come, he didn’t speak to Pryce. Didn’t thank him or say goodbye, he merely rushed towards the car like a man scorn where Roman stood burying his sorrows in a cigarette and staring off into the distance.

 

            He grabbed the cigarette from where it was held between his fingertips and took a deep drag, needing something to calm his nerves.

“Are you serious?”

“You think it’s gonna make a fucking difference?” Peter asked, exhaling. “Like I didn’t just smoke last night, like I haven’t been for a fucking month. This isn’t going to do shit.” He leaned heavily against the car and breathed out smoke again into the air, watching it drift upwards into a sky that was nearly as grey as the smoke he released.

“What the fuck, Roman? You lose your shit every time you think I’m gonna go somewhere and then you just fucking take off?”

“I just came out here to have a cigarette.”

“Bullshit,” Peter practically spat, “You started getting cold feet the minute Pryce…” Peter drifted off, really not wanting to say what the both of them know was happening. “You fucking know.”

“Don’t you dare lecture me about getting cold feet, Peter! I wasn’t going to just leave you here. I was…I was scared, alright?”

“ _You’re_ scared? What the _fuck_ are you so afraid of?”

 

            Roman didn’t answer him, merely took the cigarette back from him and took another drag. “Get in the car,” he said, punctuating his statement with an exhale before he tossed it to the ground and snuffed it out with his shoe. “There’s some shit I need to tell you. But I’m not going to do it here, and I’m going to wait until I get home.”

Begrudgingly Peter agreed, wordlessly climbing into the car and sitting the rest of the way in silence, watching Roman who looked like he was about to come out of his skin the entire time. He was clearly spooked, perhaps it was the prospect of becoming a father despite the fact that he had Nadia. A fucking father…God, Roman was going to be a father and somehow he was going to be some fucked up combination between that and a mother. Oh God, how did he get himself into this mess?

            Peter wasn’t afraid of the commitment of a child, so to speak. He had been fully ready to settle down with Letha, raise Nadia as his own daughter and start a life with her. What he was afraid of is that he had some mutant fetus growing at an accelerated rate in an organ that wasn’t supposed to be there and had completely wrecked his insides, with no foreseeable way to get the damn thing out without breaking his pelvis in half. He wasn’t even so scared of breaking his hips because he knew they’d go back together way easier than a human’s, but he was afraid of the entire concept in general.

 

            Before he knew it the both of them were at the house, and maybe he could finally get some answers out of Roman but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know them in the first place. Roman headed in before him, sat down heavily on the couch and waited in silence for Peter to finally arrive. He was hot on his heels and felt the whole thing seemed awkward; Roman was avoiding his gaze. He didn’t want to speak and Peter knew it. He looked nervous and flighty again.

“I’m going to tell you some shit that you’re not going to like, and you gotta promise me you’ll hear me out until the end. Alright?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, though he was actually feeling sort of combative at the moment. It honestly made more sense now that he realized his hormones probably weren’t behaving normally at the moment.

“Nadia…Nadia is mine,” Roman said. “Mine and Letha’s. Olivia made me…She made me go fuck my own…cousin. No, actually, she’s my fucking sister….and I swear to you Peter, I had nothing to do with it. You have to believe me I would never-,” Roman stopped himself for a moment, and it gave Peter a good few seconds to really start processing everything he was hearing. It made him feel sick to his stomach and he wasn’t seven sure how much of it was from what he was hearing and how much of it was from …what would it be called, morning sickness? Did it always happen in the morning? That was irrelevant.

“What I’m saying is it fucking scares me, Peter, because look what happened to her. Look what happens to anyone who’s close to me. I know it sounds stupid as fuck but it starts becoming a pattern, and shit maybe I’m just really bad fucking luck, and I’m not meant to have any of this. But maybe for a second I thought shit was fine but fuck, when’s my luck ever really been that good since all this shit started happening?

Because as soon as I started thinking everything was okay, I lose my daughter, I lose Miranda. Now what happens if I lose you? What happens if it’s my fault, Peter? Pryce is talking about having to snap your hips in half and-and catastrophic organ failure and I can’t sit here and pretend that it’s fine. I’m scared…I’m fucking terrified that in some way, I’m going to lose everything and it’s all going to be my fault.”

            As Peter listened to him, and watched him speak, he could see the seams slowly begin to unravel. He was barely holding it together and he thought that at any moment he could become hysterical, and everything he’d kept inside was about to spill out and destroy him. But oddly enough, Peter wasn’t angry. No, he was angry he thought, but at the moment he felt too much to feel anything. He was numb; he could feel no specific emotion other than what may have been shock. Later, he might hate Roman. He might regret ever wanting Roman to stay five minutes from now but he had to keep it together. He couldn’t do this alone as much as he wanted to.

“You killed her…” Peter finally said, his tone almost monotone and breathless.

“Peter, please I-,”

“Shut up,” Peter said, interrupting him so that he could gather his own thoughts. “Just…shut up, let me speak. On any other day I might want to fucking kill you, maybe later I will but right now I realize that nothing can stop what’s already happened. I can’t blame you for your…vicious fucking cunt of a mother. But I _can’t_ do this alone. I have no fucking clue what’s happening to me, and all I know is one half of the damn lineage of this thing. I need you…I need Pryce, I need-fuck, I don’t know.” Peter buried his head in his hands for a moment, because what did he need? Who did he need? In reality, did he _actually_ need Roman? He did, for the most part, if only even to get to Pryce but there was another part in his mind that inexplicably said he needed him. He couldn’t even explain what it is he needed about him.

            It wasn’t that he was really afraid of becoming a single parent, because he thought that he could do that. He honestly could not fathom what he was so afraid of not having Roman there. The both of them were horrible at comforting each other or anyone else. Socially stupid and honestly so fucked up that maybe Pryce was right; maybe two pieces of fucked up could balance it out. Because they were bad at talking, bad at speaking to one another about secrets and problems but maybe there was some kind of mutual respect of some sorts that made that okay. Somehow he felt like in some way Destiny had warned him this kind of shit was going to happen. Fuck, Destiny…He forgot about her.

“I need to call Destiny,” Peter said suddenly, moving to stand but very quickly regretting it. He wasn’t sure what did it; the shift in position or the cosmic force of the universe gathering at once to metaphorically fuck his ass but he felt incredibly ill very sudden. “I…I’m sorry,” was all he could get out before he rushed to the first place he could think of that had any kind of receptacle, which was at the moment Roman’s sink.

 

            He absolutely destroyed his sink, or so it felt like it, even if it was just bile it was slick and disgusting and probably not going to wash down very well. Again it hurt, deep inside he felt everything pulling and now he understood why. He hoped he could get used to this pain. Despite the fact that he ripped all his skin off monthly his tolerance for pain was still fairly average. But if not just for pain, he was annoyed. No, he was pissed. For a brief moment he was incredibly, irrationally angry at Roman for merely existing and causing this in the first place.

“I fucking hate you…” Peter said, his voice raspy and breathless, and he used that one moment he had where he could breathe to declare his hatred to the person he’d asked to stay moments later. “I hate you so much.”

“Okay,” was all that Roman said, and for a moment he didn’t register that he’d come over to him, until the sink turned on and suddenly he felt very cold on the back of his neck. Roman had done the bare minimum at least to comfort him but that was it. He was bad at this, but it occurred to him that Roman probably didn’t know what to do, and like Peter he was bad at giving people comfort.

“You’re kinda bad at this,” Peter said, spitting into the sink once more and righting himself.

“I know,” Roman said. He admitted defeat, and for a moment Roman almost seemed broken. Like there was no longer any reason to fight or get angry. He seemed…tired. Tired of running, of fighting, of arguing and trying to prove himself right.

“I think we’re both bad at this. Give me your phone, I don’t know where mine is.”

            Roman handed him his phone readily, and Peter went to dial in Destiny’s number to find that it was conveniently already in Roman’s phone. Good to know, he guessed. He turned around to face away from the sink, leaning against it for a moment and listening to the water run. He turned it off briefly, waiting for the ringing to stop and for Destiny to answer. Finally she did.

“Hey, Dee I…Yeah, I know. Listen, I…fucked up. I fucked up really bad and I need your help.”


	3. Mother Knows Worst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to write half the people in this chapter and this is unbeta'd again sorry

            Destiny wasn’t one to take bad news over the phone. She insisted on coming over before Peter told her anything, and so he waited alone as Roman went back to the institute to get the clothes and phone he’d accidentally left there. It at least gave him some time to change out of what he’d been forced to wear home. It almost made it worse because he didn’t want to say what he had to say to her face. He was embarrassed, confused, and stressed out about the whole thing. While he waited he changed into a clean and relatively comfortable pair of clothes and continued to wait on the couch, staring at a pack of cigarettes on the table that taunted him relentlessly. He probably shouldn’t smoke, he should quit cold turkey right now. But he was sitting there acting way too twitchy and just wishing he could smoke the whole pack right there. Maybe if he smoked enough he would self-abort. Maybe it would die in him and rot, and give him sepsis that killed him slowly. He felt guilty, wishing the thing would die but at the moment he felt no attachment to it. It was easier.

 

            He heard a knock on the door and called out to her, watching as she entered looking like some kind of worried mother. Fuck, Lynda. He couldn’t even tell his mother because speaking to her was too risky. She was miles away and she didn’t even know…Did he really want to tell her though? Destiny, maybe, but could he tell his own mother he’d fucked up so badly?

“What did you do?” Destiny asked, not a ‘how are you’ or ‘are you okay’, immediately accusatory in the way Peter knew was simply her showing how she cared.

“I, uh…” Peter cleared his throat a little, trying to figure out just how he was going to explain this to Destiny. He was more private than she was. “I had one of those heat things about a month back….and I fucked someone, and I...” Peter trailed off for a moment, silencing himself. He didn’t want to tell her, honestly. He was embarrassed.

“You got a girl pregnant? Seriously, Peter? This is how you fucked up? I thought you were in some serious trouble.”

“No!” Peter retorted. “Fuck, no I got _myself_...pregnant and I don’t know what the fuck to do. I don’t know what’s happening to me, Dee. I didn’t know this shit could happen!” He hissed out the last part, hushed in the way he spoke like he didn’t want anyone to hear but the rest of his speech wavered, nervous and filled to the brim with anxiety.

“Are you fucking with me?”

“I swear to God I wish I was,” he said, breathing slightly shaky and he felt like he might be on the verge of a panic attack. “I mean you know I like usually stay alone but…shit happened and I about lost my fucking mind, it was so bad. I wouldn’t have done this shit if I knew this could happen, why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“I…I didn’t know.” Destiny said, and it was clear that she was just as confused and shocked as he was.

            For Peter that was the final nail in the coffin; that part of information was what broke him. As confused and angry as he was about the whole thing he was also scared. He was scared and alone and like a child he cried. Folded in two with his hair forming a curtain to his knees and wracked with quiet sobs, for he never was a very loud crier. Holy fuck, that was pathetic.

“Peter…”Destiny said, placing a hand on his shoulder, which he felt a certain comfort from. “Tell me what happened. How do you know this?”

“I couldn’t turn last night, and I didn’t want to come to you because I was too fucking wired, and I didn’t want you to give me the damn I told you so speech you do, because I thought somehow it was my fault and you’d just tell me that and I just...wanted to be alone.”

“The I told you so speech?” Destiny asked, annoyed but worried.

“But I just felt like shit from then on and I-…We went out, and I don’t know, I got really sick, I started bleeding all over the fucking place and Roman freaked out. Took me to Pryce and he did the shit he does …” As he spoke it came out of him like a faucet, words pouring and running together in a fluid yet nervous fashion. “And he told me it’s six fucking weeks. Six weeks and I fucked him a month ago. It’s a fucking mutant!”

“Fuck…” Destiny said to herself. “Do you know who the father is?”

“Roman…” he said, his voice hoarse and cracking from the strain crying was putting on it, but not only that he was embarrassed.

“ _Fuck…_ ” Destiny said, in the same breath as a sigh and a groan. “I knew the two of you were destined for a lot of trouble together but I thought I was _this_ …With Nadia and Miranda.”

“You knew this and you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t think I’d have to tell you, Peter, I thought you were already _in_ it. You’ve always been in some kind of trouble with him. For all I know, this is just one layer on a giant shit sandwich between the two of you. Where the hell is he, anyway? Did he run off on you? I swear I’ll kick his ass…”

“You wouldn’t stand a chance against him…He went to get my phone.”

“And you don’t think he’s capable of just leaving?”

“No, Destiny, I don’t. He’s fucking attached to me at the hip almost, and he doesn’t just leave. He’s not like that, not like… _us_. Running isn’t in his arsenal.”

“You’re right…”

“And I think I fucked him up. Shit was fine until we fucked and now he keeps looking at me like…I _know_ he wants to get in my pants. And I don’t know if he just finds me attractive or he really has feelings for me, but he _told_ me that that night changed him, and that he can’t go back to the way things were.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing. I mean…you are having his kid now. It’s better than having someone who’s indifferent to you, who’s just gonna run off the next time some pretty girl comes walking his way.”

“But I don’t feel the same way. I haven’t felt the same about anyone since Letha. Not even Miranda…”

“Peter…you may not know it but I think you care for him a little more than you think.”

“What? What does that even mean?”

“Psychic energies aside, you look at him sometimes like he’s everything.”

 

            Peter scoffed, immediately feeling defensive for some reason. Roman was his friend, not his lover. He could never be..

“No I don’t…”

“So you hooked up with him, and you felt nothing?”

“I …I don’t know, I could barely remember…I mean I could remember but what I remember wasn’t me. It was…some kind of sex crazed monster.”

“But that isn’t all.”

“What?”

“You didn’t stop there. Maybe for a while but that wasn’t the only time you were together.”

“What are you talking about? With Miranda…?”

“No, after that. I don’t know what or when, Peter but I know you’ve been with him, alone, since Miranda, and since the heat.”

Sometimes it was annoying as hell having a psychic for a family member.

“Okay…yeah, I did but he was high and I was wired and I just…I needed something, and he was there to give it to me.”

“And so you’re telling me there was nothing then, either?”

“…No, there sort of was. He’s not awful looking and it was kind of a status thing but that’s beside the point. Just because someone blows me doesn’t mean I’m in love with them. Why the hell are you giving me the third degree about this?”

“Because you’re in some deep shit, Peter. And maybe the faster you realize you like Roman more than just a friend the easier it’ll be for you.”

“But I don’t…I don’t want him as more than a friend, and I don’t want this baby. I don’t want any of this shit, it was already hard enough.”

“Okay,” Destiny said with a defeated sigh. “Did you ask Pryce to …you know, take care of it?”

“I tried but there’s…There’s no opening so there’s no way to get it out. And he can’t _cut_ it out because it’s attached to my insides almost everywhere, sharing a blood supply and he said I’d bleed out and have organ failure in minutes. And I don’t even know how to _get_ this thing out. Because there’s no opening at all, it’s just…there.”

“Your body must know what it’s doing, so it’s going to have to come out somehow.”

“He said he thinks it might grow in later but…he thinks my hips are too narrow and that they’ll have to break them to get it out.”

Destiny cringed a bit at this, but reassured him nonetheless. “You break your bones every month. They’ll probably heal quickly.”

“I don’t care really, I just...I don’t want this and I was hoping you’d know enough to figure out how to get rid of it.”

“Well, I don’t. But I can make a few phone calls; talk to the right people, see if they can tell me anything I don’t know.”

 

            Destiny pulled her phone from her pocket and went through her phone to contact people Peter knew he probably didn’t know. When she spoke it was of their tongue and he only really caught bits and pieces of the conversation as he began to tune her out, because he didn’t really need to know what she was saying. He found further distraction in Roman finally returning, who gave one brief look at the situation and gestured for him to follow him to the kitchen. He was carrying a black plastic bag that looked like he’d just brought the remains of some poor creature into the house. Had he brought more than a few articles of his clothes home it might have seemed like that too.

 

            He reached in to pull out his phone, which was wrapped in a plastic bag and stained with blood but otherwise still seemed usable.

“I didn’t think the jeans were worth saving,” Roman said. “I’ll buy you something else if you really need it.”

“I don’t really care,” Peter said, shoving the bag in his pocket as he didn’t feel like cleaning it at the moment but he also didn’t know where else to put it. He leaned up against the side of the wall and in that moment he felt so incredibly insignificant and small in the grand scheme of things.

“Do you think she can help us?” Roman asked in a hushed tone, and Peter looked back to see though she was still on the phone she was watching Roman like a very angry mother hawk.

“I don’t know; she doesn’t know anything about this. So she’s making some calls.”

“She looks like she wants to kill me.”

“She probably does.”

            He ignored that comment and instead set the bag down and used that hand to nervously push back a stand of hair that had fallen out of place; that Peter hadn’t even noticed until he did it.

“I ran into …Olivia,” Roman said, pausing as he said her name as though saying the word mother might rot away his tongue, and merely the taste of her name on it probably tasted like death and hatred. “At the institute, probably coming in to get her fix or some shit. Then she just casually reminded me about the court date, like I fucking forgot…I did forget but it’s not her place to remind me. Shit, if she comes to live with me I’m going to have to explain all this shit to her…” Roman mumbled that last part, “But she’s not stupid and I don’t think she’ll ask too many questions. Olivia didn’t teach her much but I’m pretty sure she knows how anatomy works.”

“If Destiny can figure out how to get rid of this thing then maybe you won’t have to tell her. You’re still cool with that, right?”

“I mean…yeah, it’s not my place as it is. But if you can’t then,” Roman stopped himself and gave some halfhearted shrug that seemed to convey everything he needed to say in that simple motion. “But if it doesn’t then I’ve got to tell Shelley, and Olivia’s going to find out and she’s going to make my life a living hell.”

“Maybe it would be easier for you if you left, or I left…” Peter said. He wasn’t even sure why he’d said it. It was almost challenging, like he wanted Roman to tell him he wasn’t going to leave. That was some stupid, passive aggressive bullshit move that he probably wouldn’t have ever used if his brain wasn’t swimming in hormones he’d never had before.

“Don’t say that kind of shit,” Roman said nervously. “You know how I get about you leaving.”

“Well now you just sound controlling,” Peter said, but with a slight smirk to let him know he wasn’t serious.

“You’re an asshole. The kid’s going to get a bunch of asshole genes from you.”

“Don’t worry, they’ll probably be dulled by all the psychopath genes you gave it.”

            Roman seemed floored by that comment, unable to properly respond with anything but a laugh. And it wasn’t one of shock, he was truly amused. He picked up the bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder as he headed off. “Fuck you, man. I’m going to go wash your shit.”

“Thanks,” he responded and headed back to the couch where Destiny was hanging up the phone.

“I’ve had to make three phone calls to figure this shit out…” Destiny muttered. “You’re lucky I love you. I had to wake up and piss off so many people.”

“You’re a blessing.”

“Blessing or not…there’s nothing I can do to get that thing out of you. It won’t come out unless it really wants to.”

 

            All in all this wasn’t very surprising, and he leaned back against the couch, palm to face and letting out the most discontent sigh he could muster. “I guess it’s not a fuckin’ surprise. When is shit in our lives ever easy.”

“The good news is…you’ll be okay. Probably.”

“That’s comforting.”

“Look…it’s going to be one huge shit sandwich but you’ll be fine. It _can_ come out naturally but it _has_ to be natural because the last person they tried to cut this out of died instantly. I’m not clear on the specifics of _how_ but it’s a completely new and temporary passage. But you’ll deal with it for…fuck,” Destiny stopped herself. “He said nine months but something else is going on here. Either way it will come out of there but he said they’ve never had to deal with anyone having narrow hips so…he doesn’t know about that.”

“Who the hell is this guy and how does he know so much about this shit?”

“A friend of a friend of a family friend, I don’t know Peter. I don’t know the guy. He’s a doctor who’s got special rates for werewolves or something. He’s only dealt with males being pregnant a handful of times and one of them was demanding to have it removed and … it didn’t go well. Obviously. And the only other thing we have to go on is old books that have been passed down through generations and most of them were lost.”

“Is there any other bullshit I’m going to have to deal with?”

“Other than being pregnant…you won’t turn, but you know that. But you’re a different case. I neglected to mention the kid was half upir.”

 

            Peter was silent again for a moment, leaning heavily against the couch and averting his eyes. He was feeling nausea begin to well up in his stomach again and he thought speaking might make it worse. When it finally did subside, he spoke but it returned almost immediately and it made his next sentence sound broken and almost breathless.

“Nadia and Miranda are still missing…That was supposed to be priority number one, was finding them, and now I’m…probably too fucked up to help.”

“You don’t have to do this alone, Peter. You can’t be the only one willing to help. There has to be someone else. But you’re not doing anything right now to put you in danger anyway, right?”

“Not _now_ but what happens when we find them?”

            Destiny was quiet for a moment, trying to calculate her words carefully before she spoke.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this…but apparently, the babies born by male werewolves are _incredibly_ hard to kill in the womb. So whatever happens, it will probably be okay. But it’ll make _you_ more vulnerable. So don’t go doing dangerous shit for no reason. I don’t want to have to be the one to come to your funeral and take your head off.”

“Fine,” Peter groaned. “I’ll stay out of trouble as much as I can.”

 

            There was a sudden chime from the phone still on Destiny’s lap, and she cursed under her breath as she picked it up.

“I have an appointment…I have to go, but promise me Peter.”

“I promise.”

 

            As she stood to leave Roman finally emerged from the laundry room, and Destiny zeroed in on him, making her way over to him before he even had the chance to retort.

“Roman…I’m going to tell you this once.” She said quietly. “Don’t you dare hurt him. If you do I’ll personally cut your balls off.”

“I won’t,” Roman said both defensively and with an inkling of terror.

“Good. Because I will; don’t try me.” She said nothing more and left in a hurry. Once she was out of earshot Roman strode the few steps to close the distance between him and Peter, watching through the frosted glass of his windows the muted shadows of movement that danced along them.

“Your cousin is fucking _intense_.”

“Yep…”

“I’m guessing the news she gave you wasn’t good.”

“It was not,”

 

            In response to this Roman gave out some sort of exasperated sigh and sat heavily on the chair. “Okay…I mean maybe I won’t fuck up so much the second time.”

“You didn’t fuck up,” Peter responded, but there was an exhaustion in his tone that spelled he probably wouldn’t be up for much longer. It wasn’t just fatigue, it was a desire to just be done with everything. Every single thing was tiring and tedious. “We’re going to find her.”

“I’m going to find her. I can’t bring you into danger-,”

“Destiny said she thinks I’m fine to tag along with you as long as I’m not needlessly throwing myself in front of semis, which I did, and I’m fine so…”

“Okay, but if something happened to you I-,”  

“Look. I _cannot_ just sit at home all day waiting for you. I’m already losing at least nine or so months of being able to turn and I need _something_ to get my energy out or I’m gonna go fucking crazy.”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to interrupt people?” Roman said flatly.

“It doesn’t matter if I already know what you’re going to say.”

“Yeah but it’s manners,”

“The fuck do you know about manners?” Peter scoffed.

“Fuck you. Aside from all that you really need to eat something.”

“Please don’t start babying me….”

“I’m not, I’m being a fucking concerned citizen, go eat or I’m going to kick your ass. Because Destiny said it’s fine, remember?”

“I’ll try but I can’t promise it’ll stay down.”

 

 

            He did eventually find something to eat and really had to struggle not to throw up afterwards. The only way he thought he would be able to not vomit was to sleep, and the sun was beginning to set by the time he finished and despite the fact that it was too early he crawled into bed and passed out rather quickly. It was when he awoke in the inky blackness of his room did he suddenly feel very wrong. It was fear that he awoke to but it was not from anything in particular. He vaguely recalled flashes of something in his dreams but whatever it was, it scared him. Even though he could not recall it, it left him with an intense sense of foreboding that radiated from his very core. The longer he laid there, alone in the darkness, the worse he felt. It wasn’t a sickness so much as it was panic.

 

            In that moment he felt more alone than ever. Peter was fine with being alone but tonight he was not. Without checking the time he flung himself from the bed and made his way into the hallway. He expected to see the light from the rest of the house, and maybe he’d find Roman and not really speak to him but just bask in his company so he didn’t feel so anxious. But the house was dark like everything else. It was almost in a fit of hysteria that was clouding his brain that the only thing he could think to do was go to where Roman was, no doubt sleeping but maybe he could be quiet enough to not wake him.

 

            That same darkness overtook his senses when he entered but he was still able to see enough to know where his bed was, and he crept quietly as he could and climbed onto it, not quite as nimble as a cat but more so than a dog. When he laid there, staring up at his ceiling and finally feeling a sense of calm that someone was with him, he was jarred by the speech that filtered its way into his ears and he jumped slightly.

“Are you okay?” was the simplistic question that Roman had asked him, but it was so impossibly loud to him at that moment that it took him by surprise. Of course he was not yelling, or even raising his voice above the normal octave. In fact he was hushed, but having sat for those few minutes in such deafening silence any noise at all above quiet hums of household machinery was too loud.

 “Yeah,” Peter responded, voice a bit caught in his throat. “I just…” He wasn’t sure what to say, or what to ask. ‘Can I sleep here?’ or ‘I’m having a panic attack and don’t want to be alone’ were probably two options, but Peter didn’t like to admit weakness and the first one didn’t seem right either. So all he could think to say was “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Roman responded, and he felt relieved in that moment. They stayed there in silence and Peter counted his own breaths, and he counted Roman’s, and tried to sync up with the rhythm so that he’d be able to think of only that. But even now, calmer as he was, he felt wrong. Not himself but like something, _somewhere_ was wrong. Something bad was happening or going to happen. Exhaustion finally won out, and before he knew to stop worrying he was asleep.

 

            But Roman was not quite as lucky. He laid there in silence and pretended to sleep, still as he could be. It was entirely unusual to find Peter in his bed but not unwelcome. It filled him with a sense of both elation and anxiety. He knew what Peter was doing and he knew when he’d fallen asleep by the way his breathing changed. He took this time to turn to him, roll over and pray he didn’t wake. It was incredibly creepy, he knew, to watch someone as they slept. But Roman never cared to refrain from doing things he shouldn’t.  He watched him almost spellbound until a point where he forgot he was even watching him at all, and what he was doing was weird and instead he had lost focus. He simply was.

 

            He jolted slightly when he felt the bed shift but he merely rolled over to face him. Still asleep quite clearly, but it didn’t make things any easier for him. He found himself idly counting each breath, by sound and the way it fanned lightly against his skin. Idly ever so he found himself reaching out, to run his fingers along the bones of the sleeping wolf’s hands. Along his wrist, to rest his hand along his arm. He slept still, and Roman felt something in his heart shatter. He knew this was wrong, and that this kind of feeling was not the kind of feeling to have with a friend. That he knew, had Peter just been his friend he would have slept without anxiety knowing he was next to him. He would not have watched him in the night like some less sparkly Edward Cullen; like some kind of psychopath.

 

            But Roman had been woken in the dead of his sleep and despite the war in his head it was not quite loud enough to keep him awake, and he began to drift ever so slightly. Seeing visions only briefly in his head and waking to wonder, had he ever really been sleeping? But then something else woke him; the sound of his phone ringing next to him and in a blind panic he flung himself away from Peter lest he be caught being a creep. He fumbled for it in the darkness, squinting at the light it made and that sharp white font that read 10:40 p.m above ‘Pryce’. Why was Pryce calling him?

“Yeah?” he mumbled, groggy as all get out. But suddenly he felt more awake as Pryce spoke.

“Roman…I fear we may have a problem.”

 

 

            That problem had started hours before, while Peter and Destiny spoke in the living room, while Roman was driving home slowly contemplating all the things in his life that had gone wrong, with a garbage bag full of bloody clothes and electronics. The problem had started, like most problems did in this town, with Olivia Godfrey. At least, that is how it felt to Pryce on most days. She of course had already threatened him, and though he was smart he was also meek in spirit. He could crush her windpipe in seconds if he wanted to but she’d already threatened his work, his life; that was his life. His only purpose of being and the darkness where he hid from his own desires. So she was here again, and Pryce only worked with her out of fear. Working being sliding her occasional, albeit often misleading information about Nadia  and giving her access to the vat in the basement. If he didn’t, though, he might have a far worse problem on his hands.

“Roman seems more rattled than most days. Would you know anything about that?” Olivia asked, as she lounged in his office like she was loitering. They both hated each other and knew that, but Olivia liked to play pretend and try to converse with him, like it was normal.

“You know how he is,” Pryce said simply.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re lying to me?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about,” Pryce said defensively. He was deep into the work of something on the computer sitting on his desk. He felt like he’d almost cracked what he’d dubbed as The Spivak Genome, but here Olivia was, prattling on like a hen.

“Johann,” she said, and her voice commanded a certain attention that made him look up. She had that look about her, head downturned slightly but eyes pointed up in a way that just made her look even more malicious. Like a venomous snake, about to strike, with that single utterance of his name that made his blood run cold.

“What reason would I have to lie to you, Olivia?”

“I can think of plenty. And I’m sure you can think of plenty of reasons _not_ to lie to me, too. What is it you know about my son that I don’t?”

“He’s…” Pryce stalled. “He’s gotten himself in a bit of trouble, that’s all.”

“What has he done, Johann?” she asked, her tone darkening once more and somehow the fact that she refused to refer to him by his last name, as many others did, only made the chill that much colder.

“He could have my head for telling you, Olivia, and as you know he’s the head of this company-,”

“I could have your head in seconds if you don’t start explaining yourself. All it takes is a quick little phone call and your little charade is over. You’ll never work in this field again, if you don’t tell me…” Olivia strode over to the desk, taking not many steps but making great distance with the incredible length of her legs. “What my son…” She looked along his desk, looking for something to destroy, and settled her predatory gaze on a small basket of pens which she effortlessly knocked over with her index finger, like it was as a reflex such as breathing. “Has gotten himself into.”

            Pryce watched the pens scatter, and though it was true he feared her his gaze conveyed that of a disbelief and fatigue of her constant shenanigans.  

“I don’t know why it matters to you so much, Olivia. He’s cut you off, made you live in squalor...He so much as hates the ground you walk upon. Shouldn’t him having difficulties be good news to you?”

“Because he is my son, Johann, and I demand to know…!” She raised her voice, then stopped. Calmed herself as she closed her eyes, and it was as though she was mentally counting to ten in her head. She didn’t want to make a scene. “I demand to know what goes on in the lives of my children.”

“Why, Olivia, do you continue to follow the adult hawk after he has already left your nest?”

“Johann!” she shouted, or rather she hissed. Like the snake she was.

“He…He got someone pregnant.”

“Oh…well, he has the money. I’m sure he can pay for …you know, _them_ to take care of it.” The ‘them’ she was referring to was ambiguous but her tone invoked full understanding of the meaning.

“Just because you strangled most of your children in their cribs does not mean your son wishes to follow that path,” Pryce quipped, but it earned a glare so sinister from her that he faltered beneath it. “It was the Rumancek boy.”

“What?” she asked, and there was a restrained anger in her tone, like a mother when she’d learned from the teacher what her child had done wrong in school (even if Olivia was only a mother biologically). It wasn’t even so much disbelief; Pryce would have expected that, it was anger. “How?”

“I haven’t the slightest but he’s certainly achieved it.”

“Well…” Olivia stammered for a moment, “Take care of it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I refuse to let this family fall any further into the pipes than it already has. I have put up with more than a mother should ever have to deal with, but I will not stand for this. I will not have this family mixed in with that….that _filth_.”

“And what do you propose I do? The child is un-abortable, it simply isn’t possible without killing him.”

“Good, you know what you have to do then.”

“Are you suggesting I kill him?”

“I’m sorry, did it seem like I was asking you to throw him a surprise party? Yes, Johann, kill him. For someone so smart you sure know how to play dumb.”

“I refuse, and Roman would never forgive you-,”

“Roman needs to stop playing house with dirty little boys from across the tracks and come home. Maybe this will finally be what brings him home.”

“You think killing your son’s unborn child _and_ his only friend is going to make him forgive you?”

“Of course not. But once that little welp is gone, who will he have to turn to? So…bring him in, pretend you’ve found a way to get rid of the little devil spawn, and …tragedy strikes, something’s gone wrong! And there I will be for him, waiting with open arms…”

“You’re delusional.”

“You don’t know the pain of losing your children, Johann…”

“Don’t I? The very project I worked on for _years_ , that I destroyed for _your_ child, the only shining beacon in your family portrait of darkened depravity, for _her_ … And you, Olivia, took that from both of us. You’d sooner kill your own daughter for your own selfish needs than to give her the life she deserves! Do you think for one second that killing Peter isn’t just so your name will be further sullied?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think, because I hold here in my hand,” Olivia pulled the phone from her dress pocket “The key to your very undoing.”

“I can’t do it. I won’t. I won’t kill him.”

“Find someone who will.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but here at the Godfrey Institute we do not employ highly trained teams of assassins.”

“Oh, don’t you?” Olivia asked. “Do you think I’ve forgotten about Lod?”

“Contacting them could get far more dangerous than you realize. It’s well and good to have that poor boy murdered, but what about your son?”

“Come now, Johann, it’s not like they don’t already know.”

 

            The bickering continued, back and forth, back and forth until finally, Olivia broke him and he was on the phone with the Order who’s entire mission it was to destroy anything that was a supernatural affront against God, and boy did he have one for them. Even with strict instructions not to touch Roman, Pryce knew this was going to end poorly. But Olivia watched him the entire time, phone in hand with a devilish smirk on her face that rivaled the devil himself. Olivia truly had no idea what she’d just caused, though. Lod LLC…They were, in a way, a tamed beast. There was a possibility they might strike but there was an understanding between the two of them that they were to help and not harm. But the founder had been killed a few months back and Pryce wasn’t even sure who he was working with anymore.

 

            Incredibly stupid, especially for someone so smart. But even intelligence could not abate the fear that Olivia commanded upon him. Because he knew she would do it; that her threats were not just empty. He had seen just how cold and conniving she could be and wouldn’t hesitate to cut off that bum limb before it caused sepsis, and Roman was that limb whether Olivia would admit it or not. Roman was the limb that could not be saved, that was going to end up killing her in the end but still she held onto him, foolishly, to what end Pryce could not tell.

 

            But it weighed heavy on his soul, late into the night as he paced along the floor, atop the tower that rose so far and so high that it was almost ironic. Employing The Order of the Dragon, to destroy something that was an affront to God, when this tower itself nearly reached the heavens. In Biblical times, there would be punishment for it’s very existence not to mention what happened _inside_ of it.

 

            He could not let this happen. He had to fix his mistake, but at what price? What Pryce was about to do was against everyone’s best interest in the end. He was going to tell the truth, let them do what they must with it but likely they would run. They would run away from the one place Pryce had told them they needed to stay close to. They’d run away from Miranda and Nadia and Pryce would have to find another way to find them. Still, pulled the phone from his pocket and waited for Roman to answer, sleep still clinging to his tone.

“Roman…I fear we may have a problem.”

 

 

 


	4. Go Boy, Go Boy, Run For Your Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is both sex and graphic violence in this chapter and I apologize but the chapter was too short it seemed like and didn't have enough substance so fuck it porn it is

Peter felt like he slept fitfully for a long while, feeling that he heard noises and speaking but in his subconscious mind he only registered it as dreaming. He had that sensation like he was falling at points, feeling like he was being moved, but in reality he was so knocked out he didn't even realize most of what was happening. When he came to, it was only vaguely, to the tune of some droning radio announcer and still, somehow mostly unconscious, he could pick up what it said.

  
  


“They're being called the Cannibal Cleanup Crew. A group of grisly murders has been traveling the country recently, and sources say that most of the victims are found with parts of their bodies bitten off, yet no dental records currently match as the wound is usually too damaged. The victims are thought to be tied together by their court records, as most of them have avoided jail time and serious charges with a lack of evidence. In many of the incidents, there is also a message written in the victim's own blood; a word or a name in which the victim was thought to be guilty of.

  
  


People across the country seem to have mixed feelings about these murders. There are many who say what they're doing is justice for the criminals who have gotten away, and that they're, quote on quote, cleaning up the streets, while others say it's barbarous and senseless cruelty.

  
  


In a separate case there have been reports of gruesome attacks of people being found mauled at night and eaten. Investigation point to animal attack but due to the fact that some of these happen inside the home the theory is inconclusive. Some have reported seeing hooded figures near the murders but to date no one has been caught.

  
  


But it might just be an animal after all, as a large population of wolves is beginning to show signs of a bizarre infection that causes them to attack seemingly specific people, though what ties these people together is currently unknown. Effected animals appear to be missing fur and are covered in strange tumors. One of the creatures was captured in Pennsylvania, where it refused to eat nor did it attack any of the researchers. It died shortly after, due to a self inflicted injury and was autopsied soon after, where it was discovered that the creature was host to an infection that was almost similar to the cordyceps fungus.”

  
  


Even asleep this seemed to specific to be a dream and it was what finally woke Peter up, and he awoke with such confusion that he thought he might still be dreaming. It was dark and he was staring at something white, where flashes of light passed along it every so often and then faded away. He realized soon that he was moving, or rather the vessel he was in was moving. It took him a moment but he realized he was in the back of a van, with metal interior on the top and a ridiculous amount of blankets below him to give him a semblance of a bed. Peter had never seen this van before in his life and he had no clue where he was. It wasn't hard to deduce that Roman was driving it, and without warning him he climbed through the seats and into the front.

It scared the shit out of him and he swerved slightly, cursing incomprehensibly at him until he was finally seated.

 

“You could've made me wreck!”

  
  


Peter went to speak, finding at first no voice would come and his mouth was incredibly dry, but he cleared his throat and spoke hoarsely and in a tone that was dead tired towards him.

 

“Why the fuck....” Peter silenced himself for a moment, not sure how to proceed with just what question he had but settled for making a broad gesture towards the whole of the van. “...To all of this,”

 

“I tried to wake you up...” Roman muttered.

 

“That doesn't answer 90% of my questions.”

 

“Something...not something, my _mother_ happened and we're in trouble.” 

  
  


  
  


And so Roman regaled to him that moment he'd been woken (he said woken, but Roman himself knew he was more or less awake and doing things he shouldn't have) by a phone call that would change their life more than it already had.

 

“What do you mean trouble?” Roman asked, slipping out of bed and into the hallway. 

 

“Your mother knows. She knows everything.” 

 

“And how the hell does she know _everything_ , Pryce?” 

 

“I take full responsibility for this mistake, and you can blame and despise me all you wish, but right now you have to get out of there, now.” 

 

“What the hell did you do?” 

 

“I made a few phone calls I fully regret making. Olivia wants Peter dead, and I mean that in a literal sense. The Order of the Dragon is after him, and you have to leave immediately if the two of you ever want to see morning ever again.”

 

“Hold on...the what?” Roman asked. 

 

“They kill anything that's an affront against God, and what the two of you have created is most certainly an affront against God. You've dealt with them before. Chasseur, I believe her name was, and the cult that was killing children were rogues from the same organization.” 

 

“Fuck...” Roman said, rushing down the stairs, phone still to his ear as he made his way to a storage closet to retrieve a duffel bag. “So what the hell am I dealing with here, Pryce?” 

 

“I don't know...They've changed since the last murders. They've lost many of their numbers and no longer do things the way they once did. But if previous incidents is anything to go by, you're dealing with someone smart who knows what you are and how to kill you. They're under strict instructions to only kill Peter but I am beginning to think they no longer care to keep you alive any longer.” 

 

“Are you saying they already know me?” Roman said, heading back upstairs and packing anything he could find that belonged to Peter before he'd head into his room and pack up the rest. 

 

“They own shares in our company...There has been a mutual partnership between us since Norman sold his shares.” 

 

“So I've been working with an enemy I knew nothing about?” Roman asked accusingly. 

 

“So to speak.” 

 

“And you couldn't have kept your fucking mouth shut?” 

 

“I won't make excuses for myself. I fully acknowledge that this was a moment of weakness and that I am at fault, but there is no time to argue. There will be a vehicle delivered to you soon. Do not use your own car, and pay only in cash. If you must withdraw from an ATM never do it in the same place. Limit your phone calls. Trust no one.” 

 

“What about Nadia?” 

 

“Don't worry about her, or Miranda. I'll find a way to save them, I promise you Roman.”

 

“Don't let my mother lay a hand on her, and keep Shelly safe. If I come back, and any of them are hurt...” 

 

“They won't be.” 

  
  


  
  


Roman had hung up from him and continued packing as quickly as possible, until a nondescript looking van pulled up and two men exited it, leaving it there and driving away in a separate one. He attempted to wake Peter up, but found it in vain and instead made a bed for him in the back so that he didn't have to sleep on the seat. He'd been driving ever since. 

 

“And you couldn't have given me a say in this? I could've just left- you would've been safer.” 

 

“I wouldn't have, they were coming for both of us. And I can't just send you out here on my own, not knowing if you're dead or alive...” 

 

“I would've been fine, Roman, you should've stayed...” 

 

“Every time you say you're _fine_ something shitty happens. And I already let Destiny know, she's in full support of this plan and wants to help us any way she can.” 

  
  


Peter groaned slightly, disappointed that what Roman was saying made a lot of sense. It never felt good to be wrong about something. He was quiet for a long while, staring absentmindedly out the window at nothing but darkness and trees passing by him. 

 

“Can you do this?” he finally asked.

 

“Can I do what?” 

 

“Can you run?” 

 

“Isn't that what I'm doing?” 

 

“Yes but...you're not used to this life. I am. Do you think you can do this? Do you really want to give up everything you know in life for me?” 

“I'll be fine...” 

 

Despite the fact that Roman said he was okay with it, it still made him feel very guilty. He almost wanted to fight him, to tell him to go back and find a way out of this mess, and just let him leave. But he knew even if he left on his own Roman was still in danger at this point. 

 

“You're really going the extra mile for a friend you've only known for a year or two...” Peter mumbled.

 

“Well you're kind of carrying my kid.” 

 

“Up until a few hours ago you didn't want it.” 

 

“Neither did you. I still think it's a horrible idea but ...it's still my kid.” 

  
  


But Roman, of course, left out the fact that it felt like Peter was sometimes everything to him. That truthfully he should leave to destroy these more than friend-like feelings he had for him but the thought of him being in danger tore him up inside. Now that he was pregnant it was even worse. He felt like he  _needed_ to be there for him, no matter what. To put himself in danger to protect something that was his, even if he had admittedly said he didn't want it earlier. And it wasn't that he was afraid of having children, it was that he was afraid of losing him because of it. But there was nothing else they could do, and Roman wanted to do all he could to make sure the both of them came out of this okay. 

  
  


But even here, driving away from everything he knew for someone he barely knew, he felt broken inside knowing that he was doing this for someone who would never see him as more than a friend. But that was okay, because Roman deserved nothing more. Not from Peter, at least. Not after what he'd done to him. He was a beast; an inhuman creature of the night but that didn't stop his human heart from being consumed by guilt and feelings of longing. How long would it be until he couldn't take it anymore, though? How long would it be until he admitted his feelings to both Peter and himself. Even to himself, he refused to use the L word but he knew what he felt wasn't friendship and it wasn't hatred. It was longing, a very separate L word. 

  
  


The time read 1:30 a.m on the dashboard clock by the time Roman finally pulled into a motel, payed the man cash and headed into a room that, of course, only had a queen sized bed. It was like every awkward scene from any romantic comedy and Peter hated it. But he could care less at the moment because he was still exhausted, and it wasn't like he hadn't just been sleeping with Roman a few hours ago. It would probably continue on this way until the two of them were safe enough to bed down somewhere that  _wasn't_ on the road. 

  
  


Peter climbed into the bed while Roman headed into the bathroom, emerging later with nothing but a loose pair of pants on. It was strange to see him dressed so casually and for a moment Peter almost thought it looked fitting. He showed far more humanity when he wasn't as proper as possible. 

“Look who's undressing who with their eyes,” Roman quipped.

 

“I wasn't, it's just really weird to see you in anything but ...” He gestured, or he tried to the best he could while he was laying in bed. 

 

“Or maybe I should just take my pants off.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Peter said, rolling over so he didn't have to look at him as he climbed into the bed. 

  
  


There in the darkness, the minutes ticking by on his phone as Peter slept and Roman remained awake, he was terrified. What he'd said moments before, the banter he gave him, was only a way of covering that up. Inside his nerves were vibrating, like they wanted to burst free from his skin and run away. Peter had been right, the more he thought of it. He wasn't built for this life. He wasn't built to hide. He certainly kept to himself most of the time but his life was built upon the fact that his very existence was ingrained in nearly every fiber and thread of the town he was brought up in. His family's reach extended through it, like thin tendrils creeping into everything and everyone knew about it. 

  
  


He was to be unknown now. In a way it was a relief, but in another way it was terrifying. To be forgotten, to be nothing. He'd always been  _something_ and that something was the only thing he had going for him. That façade that everyone else thought they knew, thought they saw, because he thought maybe if he pretended to be what people thought he was he could hide his own weakness even from himself. Powerful, confident, in control. Not what he was; scared, a generally emotional wreck, a darkened twisted visage of hunger and pain. 

  
  


But the only time he ever felt truly okay was when he was with Peter. He was happy when he was with him for the most part, but it was Peter that could turn that so quickly. To bring him down into something jealous, angry, and scared. Every emotion he felt with him was more extreme than what he felt with anyone else. As if on cue Peter scared the shit out of him by doing something he didn't think he'd ever experienced with him. Apparently there were some small tendrils of affection that twisted through his heart, contrary to the casual aloofness he usually displayed. He turned to him in his sleep, pressing himself close and draping whatever limb he could over whatever part of Roman happened to be near him. He took in a breath, sharp and sudden before he relaxed into it. 

  
  


Tentatively, afraid he might wake, he wrapped his arms loosely around him, enjoying the warmth and the comfort more than he'd care to ever admit. Despite the fact that anything having to do with Peter's feelings towards him usually made him a nervous wreck inside he was so incredibly comforted by this warmth and companionship that he fell asleep. 

  
  


  
  


Neither of them woke up until way later than they'd wanted to, though a set time was never established Peter had wanted to leave slightly early to try to beat whatever assassin attempt may be coming their way, and he assumed that Roman may have felt the same. But the sun was filtering through now, still low enough to know that it wasn't  _too_ late but still bright enough to make his eyes hurt. It took him a moment to realize the position he was in, wrapped up in Roman's arms with his limbs tangled around him like a pair of headphones in a pocket full of keys. He was startled at first until he realized it had to have been him who started this and Roman simply didn't care. Of course he didn't care... 

  
  


  
  


But despite the fact that he was wrapped up in his friend, far closer than he should be, it was incredibly comfortable. He was not used to being the small spoon, or a spoon at all, but he had to admit he enjoyed this. It was warm and inviting, it made him feel safe. He didn't want to move or wake up, so instead he stayed there, for a moment with his head buried against Roman's shoulder. He pulled away momentarily in the intention of getting up but stopped himself when the brush of cold air traveled against his skin. 

  
  


  
  


So instead he stayed there, trying not to wake him up and trying not to stare at him. But he was failing, because the more he tried not to stare at him the more he wanted to. And the more he stared at him, the more he tried to deny the ever present thought that Roman was really, really fucking pretty. Peaceful with his lips parted just slightly, the rise and fall of his chest as it pressed against his own. Fucking asshole, who did he think he was? Having a mouth like that, on a boy. That was a girl's mouth. A pretty, pretty girl he wanted to kiss. 

  
  


'Don't fucking do it, Peter. Don't kiss him, don't be an idiot. He's your friend not your lover. Well there you fucking go, fucking shit up.' Peter already knew what it was like to kiss him but somehow, when he did it this time, it was different. He was awake enough to realize what he was doing; in his own state of mind albeit slightly different because it was swimming in estrogen. It was stolen and wrong but it sort of made the whole thing far more exciting. Of course, the worst time to kiss someone was probably in the morning but Peter had had far worse things in his mouth. But still Roman slept; sleeping beauty was  _not_ awoken. 

  
  


So he kissed him once more, hoping to savior a moment he didn't ever truly want to repeat again...did he? No. But right now, for once, he could feign domesticity with someone who wasn't technically dead. His heart beat, yes, but he was no longer human or of the true living. He chased that warmth, that comfort, because for the moment he just wanted normal even if he had to pretend. His fingers traced the back of his neck, feeling the vertebrae beneath the skin and probably gripping there a little too roughly. But maybe Roman was a heavy sleeper. 

  
  


Or maybe he wasn't, because in two seconds flat he found himself on his back with the upir above him, having gone from zero to sixty in seconds. His eyes were alive with green wildfire, burning a hole into him with such intensity it almost made him want to shrink away. But he challenged his gaze with something akin to defiance. 

“What the fuck, Peter?” Roman asked. 

 

“Poor impulse control,” was the only thing that Peter could think to respond with. 

 

“Impulse control?” Roman breathed out. “So you can bitch at me for looking at you funny but this is fine?” In the way Roman spoke, it should have sounded angry. It should have but it didn't. It was shock and amusement, and just a little bit of anger. 

 

“From where I was laying ….your mouth was looking, uh...you know...like,” Peter gestured at nothing in-particular.

 

“Like what?” Roman asked, but it was clear now that he had more than anger on his mind and it both thrilled and terrified him. 

 

“Appetizing, I guess.” 

 

“You trying to eat my face?” Roman quipped. “You gonna turn me into a wolf?” 

 

“What?” Peter asked, confused for a moment until he realized what he was talking about “Man, fuck you-,” He was cut off, silenced as Roman kissed him suddenly. He shoved him away after a moment, mock offense as he spoke “I was speaking, fucker.” 

 

“All I heard was excuses,” Roman said sternly “Why did you really do it?” 

 

Peter huffed in annoyance, feeling a bit trapped because Roman was so much bigger than he was, and though he didn't have his weight on him he was still easily able to overpower him. But he decided, despite his annoyance, to tell the truth so that maybe it would get him to move. 

 

“Because I woke up, and it was warm and comfortable and...safe, and it felt like something normal for a minute. So all I wanted was to pretend that things were normal, not focus on what was happening or...who you were. Happy?” 

 

“So you want domesticity?” Roman asked, but it was clearly half mocking. He leaned down to kiss him again and it pissed Peter off, but he actually kind of liked it. But no one was going to kiss him unless he said it was okay.

 

“Get the fuck off,” he mumbled against him, and he wrapped his legs around Roman's waist and pushed him at the same time as he rolled over, using the momentum to flip him onto his back. He sat with a certain kind of defiance on Roman's hips, but despite the fact that he was the one now in control Roman was laughing at him. Half of his hair was in his face and Peter knew Roman was one laugh away from a joke about dogs. He smacked him lightly on the thigh in irritation to stop him from saying anything, but used his mouth to silence him further.

  
  


Because for now, he did like kissing him, and he was going to let it happen but he was going to be the one to say it was okay. He was being sort of hypocritical in the long run because he'd stolen kisses from Roman in his sleep, which was probably far less acceptable, but he didn't care about the thought of hypocrisy. He only cared about the hand on his hip, and in his hair, and the lips on his because it felt fucking good. 

 

“You're sending a lot of mixed signals,” Roman said as Peter finally broke away for breath. 

 

“How do I send you the signal to shut your fucking mouth?” 

  
  


Roman let out a soft laugh, running his hands beneath the t-shirt Peter had worn to bed. He toyed with the hem there before looking up at him, and Peter saw a certain nervousness in his eyes. 

“Are you sure you're cool with this?” 

 

“For now,” Peter said. “But don't think of this as a regular occurrence.” 

 

He took this as a sign that it was okay to continue and slipped his shirt off. It was more skin to skin now, and Peter was nearly laying on him as he kissed him once again. His back arching slightly when Roman ran his fingers over it. 

 

“We should really be getting out of here though...” Roman said, breaking away briefly and taking in a breath. “I'm not saying stop I'm just saying...” 

 

“Be quick, I got it.” 

  
  


Roman gripped the back of Peter's neck, pulling him down far enough again to kiss him. It was rough, messy and passionate and full of something Roman knew he wasn't going to get again any time soon. Damn if he didn't love the way this felt, and he realized every time he got close to him; every time he kissed him or anything else, it was like getting a piece that he knew was going to be taken away. How could he be so close to something, so wrapped up in something he adored, but have it be so far away at the same time? On one hand he honestly wished Peter would make up his mind. Did he want him, or did he not? If he didn't, maybe he should stop sending these signals and giving him just pieces of a whole he could never have. But he wouldn't say that now. For now he desperately chased this feeling like a drug. A high he could have and crave later, but for now he was living in the moment. 

The progression of sex was often bizarre. It was sudden, and it just happened. Without thought, running purely on instinct, the both of them ended up naked, with Peter sitting low on Roman's hips and rutting against his cock with a slow and methodical roll of his hips. Roman was almost lost, not focused so much on the feelings he felt but the sight in front of him, because damn if he didn't look good. He was sort of half haphazardly balanced, pressing both his hands on Roman's chest to keep himself upright enough to move. He watched the rise and fall of his chest with each shallow, audible breath he took. 

  
  


He leaned over him just enough so that Roman really had to work to kiss him again, using one hand to drag him down by the back of his neck and the other to wrap around the shaft of both his and Peter's member, bringing them closer but not doing much to move his hand, as the friction it caused by just being there was enough. But he was less concerned about getting off as he was getting Peter off. He took a special kind of pride in succeeding in it. Apparently this was Peter's concern too, as he suddenly sat up almost fully and used this to fuck into Roman's hand with the desperation he knew was that of someone desperately chasing an orgasm to the edge. 

  
  


He let out what almost seemed like a low growl when he came and it was beautiful. Almost feral even. He kept fucking into his hand as he came, breathing heavily and interlaced with sighs of a higher octave, head facing downwards and his hair creating a curtain in front of his face so that it was mostly obscured. Roman was so busy watching he hadn't even realized he, too, was coming until the very tail end of it. 

  
  


But Peter wasted no time when he'd finally calmed down enough to move, getting off of him and making his way straight towards the bathroom, cursing slightly to himself in a language that he couldn't understand. It worried Roman a bit, but the truth of the matter is Peter had just been cursing at himself for not using the bathroom when he woke up because he felt like he was dying inside. 

  
  


Roman did what he could to clean up with what he had and he would have been content to lay there and wait for him, had he not heard a blood curdling scream come from outside somewhere, followed by a frantic cry for help. It could very well be a trap. Someone could be there waiting for him to run out in defense of this poor screaming woman to shoot him in the face, but Roman wouldn't be able to forgive himself if someone ended up dead and he could have stopped it. 

  
  


He quickly pulled on the pants he'd been wearing and ran outside, barefoot and shirtless onto the freezing asphalt and concrete to where he heard the screaming from. It was coming from the front desk where they'd checked in the night before. A woman ran past him as he entered to vomit on the sidewalk, and it took him no time to find out why. There, on the floor, was the man who'd checked them in, though it took a moment for Roman to realize it was him because half of his face was missing. Chewed off, skull beaten in on that side and covered in teeth marks. His eye had burst but its remnants were hanging from the broken socket like a deflated balloon. Grey matter and bits of brain were seeping from beneath his shattered skull and the smell honestly made Roman feel sick. It wasn't like blood, it was something else; something that he knew he'd never wanted to consume. Beneath it his throat was slit, not bitten. Someone had slashed it open so he wouldn't be able to scream, most likely. 

  
  


His abdomen had been torn open, his entrails pulled out but relatively intact and were lying limply across his hip. Most of his fingers had been bitten off, a few of them still in tact but there was one lying alone next to the pool of blood gathered beneath him. It had been bitten off, spit out and left there with purpose. Next to it was the reasoning this seemed to have happened; a word. It was written with the mans own severed finger given the looks of it, with his own blood, being marred slightly by the way the rest of it began to trail down to the words. In scrawling letters, capitalized and written with anger was the word PEDOPHILE. 

  
  


  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have noticed up until this point that one fucking note that just kept following every chapter, and it was supposed to be only on chapter one but it keeps moving and honestly I'm sick of it so I fixed it now, I think, you won't be seeing it anymore. 
> 
> But I want to thank everyone who has been commenting, kudosing, bookmarking, etc. I really do appreciate it. I know I don't reply most of the time but I'm a shy person and do not know what to say in response to many comments. But believe me when I say I appreciate it SO much. It literally makes my day. Makes me feel POWERFUL.   
> So anyway as long as y'all keep lovin' it I'll try and keep writing it.


	5. The Thing They Found In The Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more vomit and bodily functions in this chapter to fill a pool and I'm sorry because I'm a disgusting person but also remember that Hemlock Grove was 50% vomit and 50% male nudity.
> 
> If you make it to the bottom of this chapter without being disgusted you will find character illustration.

Roman wasted no time running back to the room, to find Peter had already packed what they'd brought in, minimal as it may be, and set it by the door. He'd left a pair of clothes out for Roman and a tooth brush but he could deal with basic grooming later as getting caught in the same place as a murder did not bode well for him.

“We gotta go,” Roman said, quickly undressing without a care as to who saw, even though it was just Peter. He pulled everything on as fast as he could, finding himself missing half the holes he tried to put his limbs into. They tangled around him and constricted, and it was only making him more frustrated.

 

“The fuck happened out there?” Peter asked, standing and making his way towards the door to have a look outside. Roman quickly stopped him, not giving him a chance to retort before he spoke.

 

“Someone killed the fucking...” he stopped, gesticulating as he tried to remember what the fuck you called these people but he couldn't. “The guy, the dude at the desk- we have to get the fuck out before the cops get here.”

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“Yes, and they ate his fucking face, let's go!”

 

This started a fire under Peter and he rushed out the door. He knew it was a bad time getting caught up in crimes, being in the same place. People would take one look at his last name and he'd be in trouble. They weren't far from Hemlock Grove and the type of people were pretty much the same in this part of the states. He quickly climbed into the passengers seat while Roman carelessly tossed the overnight bag into the back, the place that was still covered in several blankets. They peeled out faster than Peter would have liked. The squealing probably drew their attention but luckily he hadn't seen anyone outside to take down the license plates.

 

“His face?” Peter asked after they'd gotten on the highway again.

 

“His face, his fingers, his...fuck, I don't know Peter I didn't take in _that_ much detail.”

 

“There was a radio cast on this morning talking about this same kind of shit...”

 

“You heard that?”

 

“Somehow, it woke me up. What the fuck is happening around here?”

 

“Don't know, but it's not our problem.”

 

“If it's not our problem why did you run outside half naked to see what the fuck was happening?”

 

Roman was about to protest, opening his mouth for a moment, closing it and responding “Okay, it's not our problem unless it's happening in the near vicinity, smart ass.”

 

Peter made a slight groaning noise as he began to feel a familiar discomfort in the pit of his stomach, but leaned back heavily and attempted to take a light nap so he could ignore it. But before he did he spoke, “The wolf thing has me worried.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Don't you remember the thing we found in Spivak's lab? What if those aren't wolves?”

 

“What else would they be?”

 

“Vargulves.” Peter said. It was the last thing he said before he drifted off to sleep sitting up. Whatever Roman might have said was lost on him.

 

Peter had very rarely ever dreamed the things he did outside of Hemlock Grove, but maybe he never dreamed those things because he wasn't with the one person who seemed so inexplicably connected to him. His dreams were nonsensical as usual but it would strike Peter later as important when he awoke. A single, impossibly long serpent wrapping around both a wolf and a snake, both of which were intertwined in ways that made no sense. Constricting and constricting until the creature became one and burst forth from its grasp. But it was now malformed; cancerous looking and sickly. Peter felt it's hunger in his dream; a hunger so great he felt like a man starved. Or sick, he felt really, really sick. Jesus fucking Christ he felt like shit even in his sleep.

 

 

He was awake before he realized it, the world spinning and blurring before him, dizziness so heavily on his brain he couldn't tell what side was where, or where he was or what he was doing until he realized his body had forced his head between his knees seconds before projectile vomiting onto the floor mat. In that moment, in pain and shuddering from full body contractions he felt incredibly angry. Angry at himself, at Roman, at the pain pulling at every single organ in his torso. How did his body even have enough in it to produce that much fluid? It seemed like it didn't contain much of anything; a clearish pale fluid tinged red.

 

“You okay?” Roman asked, the minute he'd stopped.

 

“Fuck no,” Peter mumbled, voice cracking slightly. He drew his knees to his chest, leaning heavily against the door and covering half of his face with his arm. “Sorry...”

“Honestly, I probably should've seen that coming...” Roman said, very briefly looking down at his phone and typing a few things into it. He pocketed it moments later, making a sudden turn onto an exit that lead into some obscure town. “But we're going to have to make a stop now.”

 

Peter wasn't quite sure where Roman was going, but he had a feeling it had something to do with cleaning out how much he'd just fucked up the floor of this van. But he still felt incredibly ill, and was trying to avoid looking at the mess he'd made because he thought it might make it far worse. Roman didn't seem to get the memo that he didn't want to speak, because he spoke to him, probably at the worst time to bring up a subject he never wanted to discuss in the first place.

 

“Back at the motel...” he started, and inside Peter was already groaning. “You said you wanted domesticity...For shit to be normal. I could...try, to give that to you I mean.”

 

“Roman...” Peter mumbled, “I appreciate the sentiment but this is the worst fucking time.”

 

“You still feel like shit?”

 

“You don't even know,” he said, his voice somewhat hoarse again as he spoke. He was nearly curled into himself, in a sitting fetal position desperately trying to quell a nausea that would not leave without it's presence being known ten fold. It ended with a muted whining groan that had him leaning over just far enough to try and vomit in the same place he had before. And fucking Christ, it hurt.

 

He noted absentmindedly the amount of red that was beginning to show up. From small tendrils, to a pinkish color, to mostly red. He knew now, somehow, he must be bleeding inside and he swiped his hand across his mouth momentarily to find a smudge of crimson across it. He very quickly concealed it beneath his other hand. He didn't want Roman to know. He didn't want him to do the things he did; worry endlessly and drive him fucking insane.

 

“Is that...normal?” Roman asked. “Like...this is almost excessive.”

 

“Do I look like a walking werewolf pregnancy dictionary? I don't know, fuck...” He really wanted him to shut up at the moment because everything inside of him was throbbing, aching and stinging. When he pulled into a car wash, Peter very quickly left and headed inside to make a b-line to the bathroom. He was pretty sure he was T-Minus ten seconds from it happening again and he'd rather do it there than in public, or in the car.

 

 

It left Roman alone to attempt to clean up the mess, but looking at it now he finally noticed the startling amount of what appeared to be blood. He should probably leave it alone; Peter hated when he worried all the time. But maybe he didn't need to ask Peter, and the more he looked at it the more worried he got. It was to the point where he was pacing there, hand on his phone in his pocket wondering if he should call anyone. He thought that since Pryce didn't know a lot about werewolves that maybe Destiny would be the person to call.

 

He didn't think Destiny cared for him much but she cared about her cousin, and Roman was doing what he could to make sure he was safe. He walked a short while away from the car and away from any prying ears, not exactly wanting to be in the car itself with the smell. When he was sufficiently far enough he dialed her number, pacing slightly and listening to every ring, listening to the time get longer and longer and he counted each one almost like a death toll. Finally, she answered.

 

“Roman?” she asked.

 

“Yeah, uh...listen. I need your help...When you made those phone calls yesterday did they say anything about...I don't know, a lot of throwing up?” He thought he'd start there, no sense worrying _her_ too soon.

 

“That's kind of a normal thing with any pregnancy, I'd think you'd know that.”

 

“Of course I know that,” Roman said, almost in a low and quiet hiss. “But it's _a lot_. Like...In the last few minutes at least two times, probably three. And there's ...I think there's blood in it. Is there supposed to be fucking blood, because it's really freaking me out.”

 

“...No, not that I know if. They never said anything but it's probably a given there's not supposed to be blood.”

 

“Fucking figures,” Roman said, running a hand over his face and pacing again, very nearly running a rut in the Earth.

 

“Maybe I should come find the two of you...”

 

“Destiny, no-there's nothing you can do and we can't risk you being followed. I'm going to call Pryce and see if he knows anything.”

 

“You make sure he's okay, Roman. Don't let him get hurt. I don't care what he says, if he gets too sick take him to the damn hospital and then just get out of there, alright?”

 

“Yeah, alright.” Roman said, not giving her the chance to continue as he quickly called Pryce next. Destiny would probably have his ass for hanging up on her like that but she wouldn't reach him anytime in the near future. The ringing seemed to take forever here too, and he was wondering why it was so hard for everyone to answer their goddamn phone.

 

“Roman, I thought I told you to limit your phone calls.”

 

“Yeah, and they're fucking limited but...I have a problem and I have no one else to call. The morning sickness has gotten so bad that I think he's throwing up blood, does this have anything to do with the kid being half upir?”

 

Pryce was quiet on the other end for a moment, and he heard talking in the background and his voice drifting muffled through the receiver. He seemed to be talking to Klaus. He hoped it had something to do with finding his daughter or figuring out what he was supposed to do with Peter.

 

“In _upirs_ the morning sickness can become so severe that it causes very mild tearing in the stomach lining. But upirs heal quickly...However, Peter isn't an upir...unless.”

 

“Unless what, Pryce? What the fuck is happening to him?”

 

“Unless the fetus is developing like an upir as well as a werewolf. It's almost as though it's treating Peter as though he _is_ an upir.”

 

“But he's not...”

 

“No, he isn't, but the two of you have created something new, and it's mere existence could be creating some physical and psychological changes in him but I can't be sure, the two of you are, hopefully, too far for me to tell of course.”

 

“Can you just tell me if he's going to be okay? Please?” Roman asked, and his tone was both impatient and upset.

 

“How much blood did you say there was?”

 

“I don't know not...not that much,”

 

“Then he should be okay. But of course as you know, even if he wasn't...unfortunately, there is nothing I could do, even if he was here.”

 

“Yeah,” Roman said, his voice cracking a little, causing him to clear his throat. “I know.”

 

 

 

But far from this conversation, Peter was suffering on his own and he thought maybe it was better that way. He was tired and hot, sweating more than he should with the cold chill that had settled across Pennsylvania already. He'd shed the jacket he was wearing in favor of the loose and far too damaged t-shirt. He leaned heavily against the porcelain, watched the tendrils of blood drift through the water and bile until he felt sufficient enough to lean against the wall. It was cool and inviting but it might have been better had he not been on the floor of a one person bathroom that was probably covered in germs. He felt like he couldn't quite catch his breath though and he didn't feel like standing up. He hurt and ached in every place, and he was more frustrated than he had been right now than in the past few days. He was ashamed to say that, again, like a child he cried when he was afraid and frustrated. He honestly hated crying for stupid reasons, and this seemed pretty fucking stupid.

 

How pathetic was it for him to be sobbing alone in the bathroom on the floor? Taking up the entire room, stopping people from entering when truthfully he wasn't even using it. But that didn't stop Roman, who apparently knew nothing about the layout and entered without knocking. He was cautious with each step and shut the door behind him, actually bothering to lock it like Peter had forgotten to. Though he was slow and cautious he still ended up in front of Peter in two steps, kneeling down in front of him and looking at him with a concerned expression.

 

“I'd ask if you were alright but...”

 

“Why are you even in here?”

 

“To make sure you're still alive. I know about the blood.”

 

The noise he let out was almost a scoff, or it should have been but it ended up being some pathetic sobbing noise that made him bury his face in his arms for a moment, and when he spoke it was muffled but he couldn't care less if Roman really heard him. It wouldn't change anything.

 

“I'm so fucking tired,” he mumbled, finally lifting his head moments later to swipe a hand across his face. “I'm so tired and it's only been a few days of this shit. I don't want to be laying on some bathroom floor in a fucking car wash, _literally_ puking my guts out and crying like a fucking child.”

 

“I've cried for less,” Roman said, swiping some of the hair from Peter's face and swiping a thumb along his cheek. “I probably would have cried six times already if I were you.”

 

Peter let out a sudden laugh, amused that Roman was willing to throw himself under the bus like that. He knew Roman to be an emotionally unstable person, and Peter tried to pride himself in the fact that he was usually more angry than upset. But he was angry; he was so angry it had made full rounds all the way back to upset and crying. Somehow he found himself in Roman's arms though, between his legs and pressed against his chest, crying more than Roman had ever seen him do. He'd never shown this side of him to Roman and it made him feel vulnerable. Then again this wasn't really a side he usually had.

“I'm sorry...” Roman said, gripping him tightly and threading his fingers through his hair. “I'm so sorry I did this to you.”

 

Peter was quiet for a long time, long enough for Roman to feel incredibly guilty before he realized, after a few moments, Peter had actually fallen asleep. It was honestly impressive that he was able to do that, but he could imagine how tired he was. He used the wall to ground himself and lifted him, one hand under his legs and the other at his back. He was dead weight and heavy as hell but Roman was confident he could get him out.

 

The looks he got from people were enough to make him feel nervous. He knew it was because he was carrying a grown man out of a bathroom but part of him still felt that nervous feeling that maybe it wasn't just how odd the sight was. He ignored their stares and carried him back to the van, where he wrenched open the doors and deposited him in the back again on the make-shift bed. He thought that maybe at some point it would be a good idea to make this into an _actual_ bed. Find an air mattress somewhere so that he could sleep more comfortably. But he had watched Peter sleep on worse things, and Roman was used to finer things but he could deal.

 

The moment he closed the door behind him he went to set about trying to clean the floor, and by proxy the glove box, of the van. He winced at the fact that most of it had actually dried up and was going to be even worse to clean. The things he did for...moderate longing. He became distracted though as a small car pulled up a short distance away, and two women climbed out. From the moment they did something seemed off, and they appeared to be arguing about something. He scanned them over briefly to keep them in his memory in case he had to deal with them later, as he began to clean out the van.

 

A very pale woman with a red braid hanging along her shoulder, and a small scarf that was braided through her hair and wrapped around her head. Large, bright eyes that he couldn't tell the exact color of from where he stood, barely shaded with a smokey eye look. Thick pink lips covered with gloss. She chewed on her nails for a moment with them, french tips peeking from beneath the length of her long, over-sized, blue knit sweater. Black leggings going into loose black boots with flat heels and square toes. She was pretty but something was weird about her.

 

She was arguing with a pale African American woman, who had short wavy, black hair. She had dark eyes that peered out from behind black rimmed square glasses, her face bare of any makeup other than a small amount of what may have been gloss. She wore a brown knit sweater, and what may or may not have been a blue knit dress, or a shirt, Roman couldn't tell. If it was a dress she wore jeans with it; black and tight against her legs where it ended with a pair of black boots. She almost seemed less intimidating than the other woman. Both of them, in theory, seemed fairly innocent but the red head had a sort of vicious aura that surrounded her.

 

The red-head opened the car door in the back, arguing indistinctly with her friend who seemed very done with the entire thing. Something rolled from inside, hitting the ground with a dull thump. It was white; it was cloth, but it was stained red and wrapped around something. Something bloody; something dead. The moment Roman saw this, he saw that they noticed him. The red headed girl stared him down with an intensity that made him want to run. It was terrifying, but at the same time there was something very familiar about it. Her friend gave him a similar look, and it held a similar feeling, but it seemed far less predatory.

 

Roman turned quickly, pretended he didn't see anything and shut the now clean side of the van. He was out of there before they had the chance to question him about what he'd seen. He took the chance to stop at a Walmart before getting back onto the road and trying to put as much distance between them and Hemlock Grove as he could. His assortment of items were bizarre to say the least, but apparently not bizarre enough to warrant any extra attention. A small trash can, a bungee cord, a box of trash bags, an air mattress and pump, any kind of food he could find that he knew wouldn't be perishable right away, a shit ton of pillows, toilet paper, and extra blankets. He probably looked like he was about to rough it in the woods, and fuck, maybe he was.

 

He drove for nearly the rest of that day on a long stretch of highway that seemed to go on for hours. He only stopped briefly enough for Peter to brush his teeth about four dozen times in a gas station bathroom it seemed like and to devour a subway sandwich. But Peter found comfort in sleeping as much as physically possible so he kept mainly to the make-shift bed. Luckily he hadn't had to use the trash can he strapped to the side of the van's wall with the bungee cord.

 

When the lines began to blur together on the road and darkness had taken over most of it, Roman knew he had to stop. But unfortunately there was nowhere for him _to_ stop. It was dark and he was tired and not confident enough in his driving ability to navigate them to a motel, or hotel. Whatever the fuck. He got the sneaking suspicion he was being followed though, and he hated to stop now, but every time he checked no one was there.

 

 

He pulled off down a road that lead into the woods, and then further off the road from there. Probably the _worst_ place to go but, at the same time, probably the best. They were less likely to be found but they were also more likely to attract Leatherface type company. The minute Roman stopped this seemed to wake Peter up, who was incredibly confused and Roman would die before he admitted it was cute.

 

“The fuck are we...?”

 

“Home sweet home,” Roman mumbled, turning the car off and looking back at him.

 

“What?” he asked, voice slurred slightly from speech.

 

“I can't drive anymore tonight, we'll sleep here.”

 

“Motherfucker...” Peter mumbled, rubbing his face slightly and trying to wake up.

 

“You alright?”

 

“I guess I just...” he looked around the back of the van the best he could in the dark, rustled around in the bags for a moment and threw the door open. “I'll be back.”

 

“Should I go with you?”

 

“No,” Peter said adamantly. “There are some lines you don't cross, this is one of them.” He crawled out of the car and bounded off into the woods like some very uncomfortable deer. He watched him for a moment until he disappeared into the trees and Roman let out a muted groaning noise to himself, feeling tiredness seeping deep into his bones from all of the driving.

 

He took this chance to blow up the mattress so it was more comfortable, sitting on the edge of the open doors waiting for him to return. Roman was feeling squirrley and even more so that Peter was out there, alone; he hoped alone. The air was silent and cold; fucking freezing, and the noise there was so quiet that he could hear almost everything. The rustling in the leaves and the quiet hoots from tree tops. Roman didn't care for the woods...

 

 

Peter, however, was having a similar problem, deep in bum-fuck who knows where in the woods, spooked as hell because it just didn't feel right. He was cold as balls and half naked. He watched his breath make swirls of warmth in the ever so freezing air, listening closely to every sound that he heard. It felt like something was stalking him and Peter never felt more vulnerable as he did now. If something killed him with his pants down he was going to be _pissed_. He got out of there as quickly as possible, not liking the way the woods moved around him in the still and silent dark.

 

He was lead back by the presence of smoke drifting in bright swirls in the blackened sky. Roman was sitting there with the door to the back open, face pointed towards the darkness and peering between dead limbs to the stars above them. The minute he climbed into the van Roman tossed the cigarette and shut the door, a dull slamming echoing through the air and sounding far louder against a backdrop of nothing.

“You're a fucking angel,” Peter said as he climbed onto the mattress. The thing took up most of the backseat but Roman was apparently organized enough so that there was room.

 

“Please don't say that,”

 

“Sorry. You're Satan, then.”

 

Roman let out a soft laugh and laid down, pulling himself under the covers and watching as Peter sat there in thought, wrapping his arms around his body and trying to get warm.

 

“Did you see anything weird out there?” Roman asked.

 

“Didn't _see_ anything but...I don't like the way it felt out there. I think there was some kind of animal out there trying to make a meal out of me.”

 

“You think we're safe in here?”

 

“I'd hope so,” Peter said, crawling under the blanket himself but trying to keep his distance. “It's fucking freezing in here,”

 

“We could change that...”

 

“Are you seriously trying to fuck me right now?”

 

“No!” Roman retorted, sounding somewhat offended. “I mean body heat, get your mind out of the goddamn gutter, Christ.”

 

“I'll pass,” Peter said, but Roman watched him shiver until he gave in, let out a mumbled 'fuck it' and pressed close enough against him to leech off his heat. He dozed slightly, but listened to the sounds outside the best he could. He could hear crunching in the leaves with slow, rhythmic steps. Four legs, didn't seem all that heavy. Maybe it was just a fox.

 

Those hopes were dashed fairly quick unfortunately. The sound of low, almost distorted growling sounded right outside of the door. The lack of windows there made it hard to see just exactly what it was, but it began slamming hard into the side of the van.

 

“Real fuckin' safe,” Roman mumbled, crawling up through the seats enough to reach into the glove box and get a gun he'd found there earlier. Roman wasn't great at using them but defense was defense. When the banging stopped, Roman carefully slid from the car and looked into the darkness. Nothing...Wait, that was wrong. From behind the van circled something...hideous. Something so completely wrong he wasn't sure what he was looking at until he realized it was an animal.

 

It was a wolf, with white fur and ...well, growths. They were tumorous and almost like tentacles, red and dripping with slime. They grew out from its fur, almost like they weren't even a part of the wolf at all the way it looked, and more like some creature wrapping around it. It regarded Roman with curiosity, but not hostility. He wasn't sure how well it saw; it had one eye that wasn't covered by the growth and it was milky white. It seemed it couldn't breathe well, its mouth open and panting blood and brownish colored slime. It smelled horrible, like it was already dead but somehow still walking. He was about to get into the vehicle and leave again when Peter came to investigate. Clearly, this was a mistake.

 

 

The wolf's lethargy suddenly shifted and it was energetic again. It showed no hesitation in rushing towards Peter and leaping onto him, snarling and growling as it knocked him to the ground. Peter let out something that was between an angered growl and a yell, trying to hold its neck as it snapped at his throat. After the shock had worn off, Roman drew his gun and fired. He missed; of fucking course he missed, but this angered the creature and it rushed towards him and knocked him down, if only to get the gun out of his hand and go for Peter again.

 

Roman searched the leaves frantically, where the fuck had it gone? He was hopeless trying to fight this thing on his own, he thought anyway. But just as he'd found the gun, amidst the snarling, growling and noise he aimed once again. He watched as the beast had its jaws around Peter's throat, and he fumbled with the gun. It was going to bite at any minute and he couldn't reload the fucking chamber. Instead he screamed, or rather he yelled at the beast; an incomprehensible 'NO' in its direction. Just as it was about to bite down, to crush his windpipe and end him, something unexpected happened. How Roman hadn't seen it coming, he didn't know.

 

The wolf went flying and the sound of metal hitting fur and bone sounded through the air, and it took Roman to realize the beast had been it by a shovel. It hit the side of the van with a pathetic sounding whimper, unable to get up before the shovel came down on it again...and again, and again. He could only watch as it was beaten to a pulp, and he looked up finally to see his savior. The woman with the red braid, standing there staring at him with eyes that almost seemed like a combination of gold, purple and brown. A car was parked way further down the road; she had been following them. She'd been following them the entire time, but now they had a new problem. What did she want? Was she friend, or foe?

 

 **The part of the fic with illustration. <br />**  
The Women  
  
  


 

**The wolf**

 

 

 


	6. I Want To Eat You Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Bodily functions, jokes about bodily functions, boys being boys (making fun of bodily functions), fluff, gore, and cannibalism

The fact that this woman had just killed something that was actively trying to kill Peter did not make her any less dangerous, and Roman crawled over to him to help him up into at least a sitting position, checking him over for wounds which earned a very annoyed slap to the hand and Peter pushing him away. He stood on his own, brushing the dirt off of him where he could. Roman stood afterwards, because trying to talk to this suspicious woman on the ground would make him look a lot weaker than he was. Standing to face her, he found that like most women he was much taller than her and he hoped his height would help intimidate her away if she was dangerous.

  


“Why are you following me?” Roman asked, not having the time for thank yous or words of gratitude when their life was so incredibly dangerous and unpredictable.

  


“You're welcome,” she said. Listening to it now her voice was monotone and low. Sultry in a way that dark chocolate was.

  


“I can't afford to be too careful,” Roman said.

  


She let out a sigh, folding her arms and looking at him with a vicious intensity, but there was a bit of playfulness now in her visage.

  


“I know what you are,” she said. “The first upir I've seen in weeks that hasn't been insane.”

  


“And so that's why you're following me?” Roman asked.

  


“There's spreading violence against the community and in these times you have to stick together. You are clueless, you clearly have never been out on your own and I'd hate to see you die. Cassidy!” she shouted suddenly, and Roman heard a car door slam shut behind him. “What do you do for food?”

  


“I have a cooler...” Roman mumbled, looking behind him as he heard the crunches of leaves from behind him.

  


“A cooler?” she asked, a smirk on her face. “But it can't last you long, can it? I came here with an offering, and a warning.”

  


The one known as Cassidy stepped up behind her; the one he'd seen earlier arguing with her. She held in her hand a brown paper package that she handed to the red headed woman, who in turn handed int to Roman. Automatically he could smell blood and feel a coldness on his hands. “You may have heard the news. That there are attacks around here; people being mauled and eaten by hooded figures. They are upir, or they once were. Something has turned them against their own kind even though this _should_ make them sick. They come out at night, like the wolves. Do _not_ leave the van until daybreak, no matter what you should hear.”

  


“How do you know they're upir? How do you know _I'm_ upir?”

  


“Did your mother never teach you to use your sense? You should be able to tell I'm upir too.”

  


“I know ... _something_ , I just didn't know what it was.”

  


“Well now you know, use it to identify us. You, though...” she said, turning towards Peter. “You're something very bizarre. Why do I sense upir in you?”

  


“I ate one for being too nosy,” Peter said, his tone annoyed as he glared at her. “What do you know about the wolves?”

  


“Only that they only attack werewolves, and that there's a similar gathering of them like ours to stick together, which is why it left this one alone...Meaning you must be a werewolf. But still, something about you is upir too.”

  


“I don't know you enough to explain that, lady.” Peter said. “Or you know...maybe your sense is off.”

  


“I don't think so. Either way, this should at least help satiate your hunger for a few days,” she said, speaking to Roman.

  


“Like I said I have a cooler of shit...but thanks.”

  


“I'm willing to bed it's probably not natural. Don't be ashamed of your own instincts.” The woman turned to face Cassidy, her hand slipping low on her back as she led her back to the car. She turned back to them once more, stopping for a moment to speak. “My name is Lana, we'll be in touch.”

  


“Lana...wait,” Roman said. “If you're giving me this, how do _you_ plan to feed?”

  


“Don't worry about it,” she said with a smile. “Go, now. Sleep and don't leave until daybreak.”

  


Roman watched as they drove away down the path , back onto the highway, before he thought it was safe enough to get back into the van. He shut the door behind him, still holding the package in his hands and settling into the make-shift bed and turning on the van's light.

  


“Do you think they're trustworthy?” Peter asked.

  


“I don't know...” Roman fiddled with the paper in his hands. “But I think what they're saying is right...”

  


“I'm pretty sure they're upirs...Nosy ones, though I didn't see the other one say much. That gives me even less reason to trust them, though. But I think right now we need all the help we can get...”

  


“Yeah...They wouldn't try to poison us you think, right?”

  


“Probably not, but they'd poison _you,_ not me. If you're going to eat whatever that is just do it. It won't last as long as the shit in the cooler, probably.”

  


Roman nodded, unwrapping the paper and finding not exactly what he expected in its contents. A lot more than he'd thought, all tied together in a piece of string but even glancing at it he could tell one thing; this was human. Was he really going to sit here and eat people? But they had told him not to deny his natural instincts. Roman felt a surge of remorse at the prospect of eating it in the first place. As he considered it he felt something slip from beneath his fingers; a small card with the word 'PEDOPHILE' written on it. It didn't take him long to put the pieces together. This was the man he'd found dead in the motel earlier that day. This was the fingers that had been missing, pieces of face, skin, organs and...well, he hadn't noticed that but there was definitely a penis in here.

  


“Fucking gross,” Peter mumbled, averting his eyes from the mess in the paper.

  


“I don't know if I should accept this...”

  


“Just do it. Beggars can't be choosers, don't let the shit go to waste.”

Though Roman felt remorseful, he knew that if the man had truly been a pedophile, he deserved it. It was impressive how much trust those two had given him; they'd practically confessed to the murder. Fuck, they'd probably just confessed to several. Roman was nearly positive that it was these two that were being dubbed The Cannibal Cleanup Crew. It was with this notion that Roman abandoned his remorse and decided that it was true, that beggars weren't choosers. Roman wasn't begging but he knew that the nutrient was going to have to last him a good while, and this was a chance for him to feed and be satiated without losing any.

  


It was cold, irony and slick. The meat was tough and elastic, hard to cut through with his teeth, but the minute it touched his tongue a sort of change occurred in him. A primal need to feed; to forget what he was eating and to just eat it. It was fucking euphoric and Roman felt like a part of him that had been sleeping for a very long time was coming back. It wasn't warm, it wasn't pulsing and hot in his mouth like people, but neither was the nutrient.

  


  


Peter was torn between being incredibly disgusted and intrigued. He could smell the blood so heavily in his nostrils that it almost made his stomach turn, but he could feel a sort of pain deep in his belly that was almost like a longing. He tried to ignore it, looked away and pretended not to notice but it made him wince slightly at one point, and of course Roman noticed.

  


“You want me to leave?” Roman asked. How someone could look so innocent covered in blood was beyond him but Roman was.

  


“No...maybe. I think I'm just hungry.”

  


“I got a shit ton of food if you want to look for some.”

  


“I don't think it's food I want. The more I smell blood I think...the more I'm being pushed to eat _that_.”

  


“Oh...” Roman said, looking down at the paper, and the blood on his hands. “Pryce warned me about this.”

  


“About what?” Peter asked, irritation clear in his tone.

  


“Since the baby is obviously part upir it's...it's probably trying to get you to eat blood. It's probably gross to you but your body might actually _need_ it.”

  


“I...I can't do that,”

  


“Peter...” Roman said, inching closer to him than he'd like. “I'm not telling you that you have to do this but it might be good for you.”

  


“That is a _person_ , Roman.” Peter retorted. “It still freaks me the fuck out that you're actually over here eating a dead guy, but asking me to do it?”

  


“You did say not to let it go to waste.”

  


  


Roman was right, he had told him to eat it even knowing what it was. He averted his gaze , looking at anything that _wasn't_ Roman but he could still smell it. It was taunting, tantalizing, begging for him to eat it no matter how much the thought made him sick. He was being hijacked by his own unborn child.

  


“Why the fuck didn't Letha go through this shit?”

  


“Probably because she was human, and you aren't. Fuck if I know, this kid isn't even supposed to exist. We're dealing with uncharted territory on all fronts.”

  


Peter let out an annoyed whine at the statement, hoping that Roman would have somehow convinced him out of trying to eat whatever he was eating. But he gave in, took whatever he could grab from the paper, not really paying attention to what it was or what he was eating. It was gross, cold and wet. Like eating fucking pennies but he was _so_ hungry. The more he ate, the hungrier he got. He was consumed by guilt and disgust but his body kept pushing, pushing and pushing for him to eat it.

  


He hated the taste but he only wanted more. So he devoured, like a rabid and starving wolf, everything he could with Roman until there was nothing left. It was like the scene of a horror movie and he wanted to throw up but his mind was running on a completely different circuit. Even with it all gone he was still craving it so badly he turned to Roman, while the both of them were still soiled with their, no ...anothers kill. He didn't know why, this time, he kissed him. He didn't actually mean to kiss him but that's how it started. It was sudden, rough and incredibly aggressive. He had Roman pressed against the back of the front seat, straddling his lap and gripping his face with blood stained fingers.

  


It was a silent acceptance and Roman made no move to fight, only agree. Let himself fall into this trap willingly and take Peter's tongue in his mouth like it belonged there. But even Roman knew it wasn't _actually_ what Peter wanted. He was ravenous and begging for whatever he could get, biting and licking Roman's lips and getting everything he could. He left open mouth kisses on his jaw and neck, sucking away the blood and whatever had been left. But the more he did, the more teeth he used. Scraping on his skin, nipping and biting him. Letting his teeth hover over his neck until finally he did what Roman thought he might do. He bit him; he bit him hard like he was trying to _eat_ him.

  


  


There would be none of this, Roman would not become a meal and he knew Peter would only make himself sick if he tried. He grabbed a fist full of his hair and pulled hard enough that Peter let out an annoyed yelp. But Peter almost didn't seem to feel pain as much as he did hunger, and he was not willing to give up just yet. He lunged forward, caught him on the chin, breathing so hard it was like he was hyperventilating. He gripped him beneath the jaw, pressed his thumb against his neck, to hold him back long enough to push him onto his back, sitting on his hips and holding him down.

  


“Peter!” he shouted, as he struggled to get free from how Roman was holding both of his arms above his head. “You're not going to get anywhere trying to eat someone who's still alive.” This was more for himself, knowing that really at the moment Peter didn't give a shit. “Especially not me.” He hoped though that maybe he could hear him, or understand what he was saying because what he saw when he looked in his eyes was not human. Not human, not animal; hunger incarnate. Desperate and starving. His body truly was craving flesh but it was not at all good for his state of mind. If, in the near future, this had to happen again things would have to go much differently.

  


His breathing slowed slightly, less frantic and he was almost starting to come back, but there was still something holding him in the realm of starvation. This was really starting to freak him out.

  


“Come on...” he said, desperation in his voice. “Fucking come on, come back.”

  


“Get off,” Peter said suddenly, and he looked terrified. “Please get off.”

  


Roman did release him after a few seconds of making sure this was not some kind of ploy

and sat back with an exasperated sigh. Peter did not stay laying down for more than a few seconds, scrambling into a sitting position and breathing heavily against the door. He was a ball of anxiety and terrified, because he could only scarcely remember the last few minutes.

  


“The fuck happened?” Peter asked, frantically wiping the blood from his face, but he too was bloody and was getting nowhere. Roman saw this and grabbed one of the started rolls of toilet paper, pouring some water onto a good few plies and handing it to him. Wasn't as good as a paper towel but Roman neglected to pick any up when he'd been out.

  


“You uh...you ate with me, and then you tried to eat me.”

  


“What?” Peter asked, breathing out the question in shock and confusion as he wiped away as much blood as he could.

  


“You went fuckin' crazy. Like you were starving, and so I guess you tried to eat me.”

  


“Fuck,” Peter said, tossing the now bloodied toilet paper into the trashcan. “Why would I do that?”

  


“Because that kid in there is begging for blood. That's what it looks like, anyway.”

  


“Is this shit going to keep happening?”

  


“I hope not...If you ever have to do this again we're going to have to put some ground-rules in place. Like not fucking eating me.”

  


“Shut up, it was an accident.”

  


“Tell that to my neck,” Roman grumbled, using the same tactic Peter had to clean off the blood that was all over him.

  


“Don't you fucking start with me, you bit the shit out of me the first time we fucked.”

  


“Okay...yeah, you're right but we weren't fucking you just came for me.”

  


“I'm sorry, God. But I'm also fucking tired. Can you stop bitching at me so we can sleep?”

  


“Yeah,” Roman said quietly, annoyed as he shooed Peter off the blanket they were sitting on to toss it into the corner. It had spots of blood on it now and sleeping in that would be uncomfortable.

  


They ended up under the covers in a similar fashion, like the first time they had tried to sleep. They were now down a blanket so it was even colder, and the two of them were holding onto each other like they were inseparable. Peter had his nose buried against the crook of Roman's neck, tracing the set of teeth marks that were against his jugular.

  


“Sorry about your neck,” Peter mumbled, a little ashamed of himself and the fact that he had to apologize. Roman let out a very put upon sigh, like he'd been injured horribly and Peter should be ashamed. Peter knew he was only doing it to fuck with him though. When he spoke, it was something that he didn't expect. “Sorry about your dick.”

In response to this, Peter gave out a very undignified snort of a laugh against his neck, “What?”

  


“I was sitting on your crotch.”

  


Peter spent some time laughing against his skin, enjoying the fact that for at least five minutes he was happy about something. It seemed to amuse Roman too, and he could feel his breathy laughter against his hair. But eventually, amused as the both of them were they ended up falling asleep. Waking that morning was not nearly as pleasant. He awoke very suddenly, in a cold sweat with such intense pain in his abdomen that it sort of made him double over. He had chills that traveled the length of his spine and it was incredibly unpleasant. He attempted to sit up and did so with some difficulty, wincing and letting out a pained hiss as he did.

  


“You okay?” Roman mumbled, sleep still heavy on his tone as it came out mumbling and cracking. How many times would Roman ask him if he was okay until he finally stopped?

  


“I have...” Peter started, trying to get his words to form without speaking because he felt too tired to do that. “The world's worst stomach ache.”

  


“It's not...” Roman started, gesticulating for a moment, “You know...is it?”

  


“Don't think so,” Peter mumbled. This was a familiar sort of pain that Peter struggled to place at the moment, because he was so fucking tired. But he felt a very sudden sharp cramping low in his abdomen and it made him feel sick. And sort of like the entirety of his digestive tract would probably fall out of him at any minute.

  


“Fucking Christ,” he said to himself, voice strained from pain. He suddenly shifted, half on his hands and knees to grab whatever decimated toilet paper roll Roman had left there last night after all the blood cleaning. He yanked the door open to the van and, for a second time, Roman watched him bound into the woods. Except this time it was less bounding, more of headlong sprint. He felt sorry for him but at the same time it was also kind of hilarious. He waited for what seemed like fifteen minutes, using a water bottle, and tooth brush to brush his teeth while he waited. He really felt like he needed a shower, though. True he'd only been wearing the clothes for maybe a day but they already had blood and dirt on them. It was freezing as shit but Roman wouldn't mind bathing just about anywhere now.

  


Despite Peter's earlier insistence the night before not to follow him he was just about to do that, hoping he hadn't been eaten since he'd been gone. But finally he returned, looking miserable and, again though he felt bad for him it was hilarious. He stifled a laugh which only earned Peter chucking the toilet paper roll at him and hitting him in the side of the head. But that only made it funnier.

  


“Fucking eat me,” Peter said as he climbed into the van again. “It's not fucking funny.”

  


“It's kind of funny.” Roman said.

  


“In what way? In what way is this funny?”

  


“Because I'm a guy,” Roman said, putting the roll back from where it came from and turning back to him, “And that means I have to think bodily functions are hilarious.”

  


“How do you know I didn't go out there to...fuck if I know, I can't find an excuse.”

  


“I have it on good authority to know you went out there to shit your guts out because you ate raw dude.”

  


“I don't have the stomach for that shit,” Peter mumbled. “Never let me do that again.”

  


Roman was, of course, right. Peter did not have the proper digestive tract to process the meat of _people_. Fucking Christ, he ate a person. He ate a person and Roman just let him do it. He secretly prayed Roman would have a similar affliction but he knew that Roman was built for eating this kind of shit, and Peter had fucked himself over by trying to do the same thing. That was so fucking stupid, he knew he couldn't; shouldn't have done it. He was going to have to remember the time he ate a person and left half of his large intestine in the woods. “Fuck what I wouldn't give for a shower,” Peter said, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back, only for it to fall into his face moments later.

  


“I don't think we're anywhere close enough to civilization for another few hours.”

  


“Motherfucker...You see any lakes around here?”

  


“Are you serious? It's freezing.”

  


“Yes, I'm serious. I feel fucking gross.”

  


“I did but I don't know how clean it is...”

  


“Clean enough. Let's go.”

  


  


That was how Roman ended up driving back to find the lake he'd seen in the woods, luckily out of view of any prying eyes but he was having a very bad feeling about using it.

  


“How can you just use a lake to bathe in?”

  


“You stop caring so much when you wake up covered in gore next to a water source.”

  


It was surprisingly clean, and the air had a good bit of a nip in it, and the water was no doubt far colder, but Peter wasted no time with those concerns. He stripped down and immediately slipped into the water. He regretted it immediately, but wasted no time washing up with the bath stuff he'd brought with him.

  


“This is stupid as hell,” Roman said, disrobing far slower than Peter had. And of course, he was too prissy to just get in.

  


“Come on, get in so we can fucking go.”

  


“I have to get used to it,” Roman said.

  


“No you don't, come on.”

  


“I'm not a fucking madman like you who just jumps into freezing cold water.”

  


Peter let out an annoyed sigh and tread water to where he stood at the bank, rising up far enough to grab him by the wrist and drag him in. There was both the sound of a loud splash and very angry cursing as he fell in, surfacing seconds later to yell “Fucking asshole!” at him.

  


“Fucking prissy ass princess,” Peter retorted. Roman's response was to make a wide swipe along the water to splash him in the face, in which Peter responded by shoving him under the water.

  


  


The two of them eventually washed after an argument that was settled mainly in splashing each other like children, and the moment Roman was clean he climbed out of the lake stark naked, into the van and dug through a bag of clothes to get dressed. He tossed Peter some clothes and watched as he toweled off, freezing as hell but still willing to stand out there, naked, and get dry. Peter went to pull on his pants and stopped suddenly when he heard a noise from the side of the van. A soft and low whining noise.

  


  


Another white wolf, different from the first but still similar in it's affliction, limped from behind the van. It seemed to want to attack but instead, it just cried. It kept its head low, limping towards him and whining, shaking its head from side to side and bobbing about like it couldn't see. It looked to be in terrible pain... Peter backed up from where it came towards him, retrieving the gun that Roman had left in the van. He didn't question it, as he saw the beast come closer and suddenly collapse. It laid there and cried, and Peter knelt down to it with little fear. He swiped a hand along its fur; it felt both slick and dry. Sticky, stiff and sandpaper like fur where the liquid had dried along it and made it stick together. He pet the sickly beast a few more times before putting the gun to its temple and firing.

  


Roman only watched him, with a sort of understanding as Peter took a pocket knife from his jacket and sawed through its neck, exerting a lot of effort until he was able to detach the head from the body. He ventured back towards the lake for a minute to rinse the blood off his hands and then joined him again.

  


“Why did you do that?” Roman finally asked.

  


“Putting it out of its misery...If I didn't take the head off, it would've just come back.”

  


  


They packed up everything and finally got back onto the road, for what seemed like forever they drove until finally reaching a town. How far were they, now? How safe? Just when did they think they could _finally_ stop driving? It had only been a few days and both of them were tired of it. Nevertheless they wouldn't stop here for long. They stopped at a laundromat to wash clothes, sheets, and blankets because somehow they'd made a bit of a mess even not being gone for long. Every look they got was suspicious, or it seemed like that in general. Even a slight glance seemed suspicious. They spent longer in that place than they'd anticipated. Despite earlier events, Peter's stomach was still far from recovered and still attempting to purge everything in the most horrible way possible. Roman still made fun of him for it, and Peter still wanted to beat his ass.

  


They finally pulled out of that town around 4 p.m, straight from a McDonalds that they'd stopped at to get food (because it was quick and easy). All was well inside the van, but as they pulled from the parking lot, beneath its frame something stirred. Rather, it was fairly still, but there nonetheless. A blinking light on a tiny device strapped to the bottom of the carriage. They would not notice as a woman threw her cigarette down, stomped out out with her boot and waited until they were far enough away. Then a motorcycle would rumble to life, pulling out of the parking lot behind him. But this roaring beast would not follow them; no, it would watch and it would wait. And who knows just when they'd finally meet the person who'd put a very tiny, tiny stowaway on the bottom of their vehicle.

 


	7. We've Got Obsessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU WANTED PLOT? HERE'S 34 PAGES OF PORN.
> 
> just kidding there's plot but there's also a lot of sex
> 
> in which roman has an epiphany, peter has dream sex with a girl who's probably dead, there's crying during sex, and a lot of wolf bullshit 
> 
> stay tuned for art because i figured since that van is so important i'd do art of it
> 
> p.s this title is a marina and the diamonds reference

Being stuck in a van for a month end, driving around in circles just to try to throw off whatever might follow them, was bad enough. Being stuck in a van with inexplicable bouts of arousal; that was worse. Being stuck in a van, with inexplicable bouts of arousal and enough energy to power an entire city with the upcoming full moon was fucking unacceptable. They'd been doing this for too long, and if he hadn't already been stir crazy it was now far worse. The fact of the matter is they probably hadn't gone all that far. They were just bouncing from town to town, city to city, and state to state trying to stay on step ahead. It had been a month but it still seemed too dangerous to actually settle down. Neither of them wanted to go _too_ far, as it was likely they'd have to return at some point. When all of this had died down, and Nadia and Miranda were safe at home they would return and attempt to live normal lives in a town that was all kinds of fucked up. Though nothing could truly be normal as it was. Peter was going to, at some point, go through the motions of what was probably similar to trying to shove a watermelon through a straw and that was already weird enough.

  
  


But the prospect of pregnancy in general was incredibly mysterious. Neither of them knew just how many months, in terms of how fast the baby was growing, it had been. But other than spontaneous vomiting, random arousal and the craving for human flesh, and sometimes rocks and chalk, Peter did not appear outwardly pregnant. Even naked the only difference was that what had once been muscular was now slightly softer, but that could also be due to the fact that he was in a car all the time.

  
  


“If you don't get me outta this fucking car I'm going to lose my mind,” Peter said to him, that afternoon on a stretch of highway that Peter had sworn they'd been down weeks prior, but it was all bleeding together.

  
  


“Are you asking me to get a hotel?”

  
  


“I am. It's the full moon and I can't be cooped up in this car the whole time.”

  
  


“Right...” Roman said, looking down at his phone in what Peter figured was him looking down at a GPS of where they currently were. A half hour later they were checking into a hotel; an actual hotel, not a motel. Peter was used to motels but hotels were almost a strange other to him. More luxury than the former and they didn't stay in them much. Not that Roman couldn't afford hotels, it was usually just that in the towns they visited they ran into motels a lot more.

  
  


  
  


The check-in desk woman kept looking at him like he was insane, because he was riled up and nervous, slightly twitchy and refusing to meet her gaze. He probably looked like he was on drugs and she was suspicious of him. It wasn't much better in the elevator and Roman was starting to get annoyed.

  
  


“Could you chill?”

  
  


“Shut up,” he said, chewing on his lip slightly as he shifted from foot to foot, waiting for their floor. “You don't understand what it's like to have a shit ton of adrenaline you know you can't get rid of.”

  
  


“Yeah but you look like you're on meth...Like, until we get to the room even.”

  
  


“Fuck off,” Peter spat at him, rushing out of the elevator as it opened to head to their room. Roman slid the card in the door and barely could get out of the way before he rushed in behind him. He watched as Roman haphazardly tossed the bag on the floor and sat down on the bed.

  
  


“Look, I'm going to have to leave if you don't chill,” Roman warned. “You're making me feel anxious as hell.”

  
  


“What the fuck do you want me to do?” Peter said, exasperated and annoyed.

  
  


“I mean...” Roman said, gesticulating in a way that did not reveal much to Peter until it did.

  
  


“Seriously?”

  
  


“It's been a month...”

  
  


“Yeah, and we're not a couple.”

  
  


“Does it matter?” Roman said defensively. “Come on, Peter. You're not as good as concealing boners as you think you are.”

  
  


“What does that have to do with anything?” Peter said defensively.

  
  


“Because I have to sit there and pretend you don't get horny like a fuckin' teenager six times a day, do something about it.”

  
  


Peter huffed slightly, crossing his arms and looking away from Roman as he spoke, “You're just using this to get into my pants.”

  
  


“So what?” Roman said. “I haven't gotten laid in a month and neither have you. It's fucking frustrating, and you know it calmed you down last time, and you're pitching enough tents to house an entire boyscouts troupe.”

  
  


“Can you please stop talking about my dick? Pregnant girls really like fucking, it's a thing.”

  
  


“Except pregnant _girls_ can hide it a lot better and probably don't have any qualms about fucking. Stop being a bitch and just let me take care of you.”

  
  


Peter rolled his eyes, letting out an annoyed groan as he stood there, thinking. Roman had a point, and it's not like he hadn't let him do it before. But it was always weird to Peter if he wasn't the one that initiated it. But it might calm him down enough to stop acting like a crackhead and he would probably enjoy it. But he wasn't in the mood to just have his dick sucked, or jerked off, or whatever; he wanted more than that.

  
  


“Fine, but I'm going to take a shower. If I come out here and you're naked, deal's off because that's just awkward.”

  
  


“I promise you I'll be wearing all of my clothes. Hell, I might even put on an extra pair of pants.”

  
  


“Hilarious,” he said sarcastically, heading into the bathroom and stripping down. It was a little chilly but far less cold than what he'd been dealing with. He stood under the shower spray for a good few minutes, appreciating the warmth and letting it calm him down a bit before he washed up. He was nervous for some reason about the whole thing, he knew what he was going to go out there to do and that it hadn't been him who solicited it. But what did he want from him, exactly?

  
  


If he was being honest he hadn't actually been fucked since the last time, and though the women he was with obviously didn't peg him he had to admit he enjoyed it. But Roman wasn't that great at it. He wasn't bad, and he was good enough even though he didn't know what he was doing, but that was the problem; he didn't know what he was doing. What Roman had going for him was his stamina and strength. He could fuck him into oblivion if he wanted to but he wasn't confident he'd hit the right spot. He had, of course, found it with instruction but Peter thought he might do better if he had better instruction; know what he was looking for and how to work with it.

  
  


  
  


He had to will away the erection all the thought of fucking had given him, because he wasn't going to jerk off if he was about to get laid. He also refused to prove Roman right about all of that unwarranted arousal. He supposed this wasn't unwarranted as he was technically thinking of sex but it just wasn't hard to turn him on right now. When he was clean and warm, he stepped out and roughly toweled his hair off, dried the rest of him and then stepped out in a towel. Roman indeed was still dressed, sans the second pair of pants he had said he was going to put on, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone.

  
  


Once he saw him he beckoned him over, crooking his finger in his direction. It was a very confident command and somehow Peter found that hot, but he'd never admit it. He sauntered over to the bed somewhat nervously, but his entire being was at the time nervous due to something that didn't have to do with sex. He soon sat before him, still in a towel and probably looking pretty ridiculous. Roman didn't seem to mind, and gripped behind his hips and pulled him forward so that he was much closer.

  
  


“What do you want?” Roman asked.

  
  


“For you to fuck me better than you did last time,” Peter said.

  
  


“Excuse me? I didn't hear you complaining.”

  
  


“Because everything was sensitive as fuck, but there's this thing....” Peter said, toying with the buttons on his shirt for a moment, “Called the prostate, Roman.”

  
  


“I know what a fucking prostate is. I took biology same as you did.”

  
  


“Well you're really not great at finding mine.”

  
  


“I'm used to girls, what do you want from me?”

  
  


“To take instructions. You gonna do it or not? Because we don't _have_ to.”

  
  


“I'll take it,” Roman grumbled. “But I'm gonna make you change your mind.”

  
  


“Alright,” Peter said dismissively. He was about to speak again when Roman shut his mouth by kissing him hard, and for a moment it caught him off guard. He was fucking good about doing that, kissing him before he could speak. Peter was beginning to think this was a calculated move. Asshole.

  
  


Once Peter calmed down, Roman was a lot more gentle. He pulled away briefly, and Peter found this chance to speak.

  
  


“Do you do this shit on purpose, so that I can't talk?”

  
  


“Pretty much.”

  
  


“You could at least fucking warn me,” Peter grumbled out, and Roman gripped him lightly by the jaw and stared him down.

  
  


“I'm warning you,” he said, pulling him back in again.

  
  


Had someone told him at the beginning of all of this, when he'd seen that boy all debonair and staring him down, cigarette in hand and eyes burning a hole into the new kid, that this would all be happening, Peter would have called bullshit. If they'd told him he'd be in a bed in some random hotel, with his tongue in his mouth, full of mutant fetus and enjoying the fuck out of his lips, well...maybe there would've been a chance.

  
  


Though he was wearing a towel still, Roman slipped one hand between his thighs rather boldly and it made his stomach jump with arousal. He took in a sharp breath through his nose, breathing in the air that Roman gave him through his mouth in a sort of gasp. He hadn't even really touched him yet but there was something thrilling about it. But still in the back of his mind there was something odd about it.

  
  


Odd about the whole thing; the concept of scheduled sex. There had not truly been much passion or spontaneity. It was talked about and then was done, and almost forced in the way it happened. He couldn't say he didn't enjoy it, it was just odd. It's not like Roman hadn't badgered him into giving him a blowjob a while back; that had more or less been planned in that he didn't just _do_ it. That in itself was odd as well. Roman wasn't...well, gay. He wasn't gay either but Roman even less so. He seemed defensive to anyone else who would say that; he himself had defended it before. Yet he was so comfortable, honestly asking to fuck him; a guy, who he'd already admitted attraction to earlier. Even with that it still fucked him up a little bit.

  
  


  
  


In his distraction he suddenly found himself flipped over, scrambling slightly as Roman pushed him onto his back because he had no idea what was happening.

  
  


“You're not falling, stupid.” Roman said.

  
  


“You didn't warn me...also ,don't call me stupid, asshole.”

  
  


“Why are you still wearing this towel?” Roman said, ignoring his statement and peeling it off of him to toss onto the floor.

  
  


“Because you're still wearing clothes,” Peter said, drawing his legs up slightly in an attempt to provide some sort of dignity. He'd been naked before in front of him, so many times he'd lost count. But in an act that was intimate he felt far too vulnerable being the only one naked.

  
  


“That's never stopped you before.”

  
  


“Yeah, but it makes me feel fucking weird like this. Take your pants off.”

  
  


“Just my pants?” Roman teased.

  
  


“Why the fuck are you like this?” Peter grumbled, sitting up to grab the lapels of his shirt, undoing the buttons roughly enough that he might actually fuck the shirt up. He almost wanted to. It would serve him right for being a fucking smart-ass. He pushed it off of him and fell back as Roman shed the rest of his clothes.

  
  


“You really do stop twitching so much when you're occupied,” Roman said, sitting between his legs and idly trailing his hand up his thigh.

  
  


“And?” Peter said impatiently.

  
  


“What if I kept you occupied for longer?”

  
  


“Look...if you're about to suggest some weird Fifty Shades of Grey bullshit I'm out.”

  
  


“No, fuck that, that's too much work anyway. I'm just saying, uh...” Roman stalled, it seemed even he wasn't sure what he was talking about. “I don't know, let me figure it out. Just stop me if you don't want it.”

  
  


“You push the line nearly every time we get together, you know that?”

  
  


“How? It's been like three times...total.”

  
  


“One of these days instead of sex you're going to bring me breakfast in bed and call me pet names, and I'll have to wonder where the fuck my life went wrong and if I should punch you in the face.”

  
  


Roman was clearly taken aback, not sure how to respond to that for a moment before stuttering out, “It's just sex. Calm down.”

  
  


“You've never hooked up with guys, right?” Peter asked. In the middle of sex he was trying to pick a fight, probably not the best thing to do with an erection that would need tending to.

  
  


“I mean...no, not really. A couple of times...At parties or in back alleys, just dudes wanting to suck my dick. Why the fuck does it matter?”

  
  


“Then what makes you so interested in me?” Peter asked accusingly.

“Because you're safe, and you're here. You gonna fight with me or fuck me? Come on.”

  
  


Peter saw through his ruse; knew how Roman felt, knew he was lying and he should tell him to fuck off but he left it alone for now. This would probably cause a problem later, and to be honest Peter wasn't sure just _why_ he was scared of this happening. What would be the harm in Roman caring for him? What would be the harm in letting someone care for him when he couldn't return the same sentiment, to a person who had already proven himself to be dangerously unstable? Right, that. That was the harm.

  
  


But of course Roman knew this too. Fuck, Peter was so damn suspicious of him. He had the right to be though because everything he'd said was true. Ever since the morning in that motel Roman had inklings of desire that would creep in at horrible times. It'd been getting worse and worse, and Peter was his drug. He'd gone from only wanting him sometimes to all the time. Just looking for reasons to touch him intimately, and this was the perfect one. He was only feeding into his addiction, though. He knew that this would hurt him in the end but his mind was buzzing, craving that high so much he didn't care. He wanted to have him, touch him. Do whatever he could, while he could, before he couldn't again. Keep him busy enough so that Roman might have his way with him under the guise of stopping him from being so twitchy. But honestly that was part of the problem. His twitchiness did drive him crazy.

  
  


  
  


He kissed him once more but only briefly so that he could travel downwards. He wanted this; wanted more than just fucking, he wanted every part of him. He wanted to _feel_ every part of him and map it to memory, the way each part of him felt against his lips and his tongue. He sucked lightly at the side of his jaw, leaving open mouthed kisses and licking his way down to his neck. He noted just how unwomanly Peter was, like he hadn't known before, but his jaw was far from smooth. It felt a bit odd against his tongue but he'd gone down on many unshaven women before, and was no stranger to hair. This was different, though.

  
  


But his tongue found the pulse point of his jugular and he sucked hard there. He could feel it, almost hear it, quickened and heavy beneath him. He would not bite however much he wanted to. Okay, maybe just slightly... He did nip lightly at the skin there, listening to the quiet gasp it elicited though he was half convinced it was from fear.

  
  


“Do you realize how much trust I give you?” Peter asked suddenly, causing Roman to look up from where he was.

  
  


“I'm not going to bite your neck.”

  
  


“If you were anyone else I wouldn't have chanced it. I don't even know if I should chance it with you.”

  
  


“Do I scare you?” Roman asked.

  
  


In this moment, Peter heard a change in him, and there was something dark. It made him a little nervous.

  
  


“Sometimes,” he responded. In response to this Roman reached between his thighs again, not grabbing his cock exactly but using his palm to grind it somewhat roughly against it. He put his teeth on his neck again and Peter felt a surge of fear, but in truth it wasn't just fear. It was a little bit of arousal and he thought Roman might know that.

  
  


“So the fact that I could tear your throat out...right here, it scares you?”

  
  


“Wouldn't that freak anyone the fuck out?” Peter asked, a little uncomfortable with his tone.

  
  


“Are you sure it's fear?” Roman asked, biting down a bit harder now on his neck. Not enough to draw blood but to cause a little bit of pain. Okay, Roman knew what he was fucking doing.

  
  


“Okay..fuck, fine it's...kind of hot.” Peter sheepishly admitted. “But you're freaking me out.”

  
  


This amused Roman, and he laughed softly against the abused skin he'd left in his wake. He abandoned his neck and continued down his body, kissing places Peter had never once been kissed. It was kind of bizarre to him. Roman was treating him the same way he might treat a woman. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about it until he started getting lower. He felt Roman's hands come to slip beneath him, against his lower back as he left bite marks on his hips and inner thighs. He was more aroused by this than anywhere else. He never did once give his dick any attention and it left him wanting more, but in a way that _definitely_ had him distracted.

  
  


“The fuck are you doing down there?” Peter breathed out finally. “If you're gonna suck my dick, do it already.”

  
  


“Who said anything about sucking your dick? I know I'm not good at it,” Roman responded. “Don't have enough experience.”

  
  


“Then why'd you insist on sucking my dick before?”

  
  


“Because I was high and it was easy. You got off anyway. Don't complain.”

  
  


He wouldn't have had the chance to complain before he was left more confused than anything, but he felt Roman push his thighs towards his chest, then grip them near his hips to hold them in place. Though the position was awkward with Roman laying so flatly on his stomach he managed to bury his head between his legs, to run his tongue so deliberately and suddenly along the most taboo of openings that he was almost not sure what was happening for a moment before he was.

  
  


“Fucking Christ,” he breathed out, having expected few things of Roman, and his decision to eat him out was not one of them. “Alright.”

  
  


He felt him laugh against him momentarily before he bent his arms at the elbow to wrap around his legs, so that he was gripping him along the inner thigh, hard against the muscle there and somehow managing to pull him even closer. It was then that he found that while Roman was not good at blowjobs, he was _very_ good with his tongue. It was enjoyable up to a point until it made Peter want more. He attempted to touch himself but Roman gripped his wrist and pushed it away. He let out an incredibly annoyed whine and then hated himself for it afterwards.

  
  


It was, in a way, almost too good. In no way at all enough to get him off, but enough to almost bring him up to the edge and leave him stranded there. A building of pleasure that never fully dispersed, only added to an ever building tightening in his abdomen and a desperation to be touched. Instead he got nothing but what felt like being french kissed between his legs, in a good way. It left him desperate and shifting his hips, almost in an attempt to fuck _something_ even though it was only air, gripping onto one of the pillows behind his head while the other hand threaded absentmindedly through Roman's hair. This seemed to go on forever and Peter was ashamed to admit how much it made him writhe there, biting back moans that came out as nothing more than desperate whines.

  
  


  
  


When Roman finally did surface Peter felt relief and was left panting and staring him down with a half lidded gaze that was two parts annoyed and yearning. He reached over him to the table, where he grabbed a bottle of lube that Peter had missed when he'd entered. Before doing anything else, though, he leaned down to kiss him at which Peter had to shove him away seconds later.

  
  


“Dude, I know where your mouth just was.”

  
  


“I've literally seen you eat your _own_ ass, what's the difference?”

“It's...it's different,” he stammered, knowing Roman had a point but the prospect of kissing him right now was just a little weird.

  
  


“Pussy,” Roman teased, and as with any young male he felt the need to prove him wrong, flipping him onto his back like he had the last time they'd been intimate before he'd had the chance to retort, kissing him roughly and quickly yanked the lube out of his hand. He supposed it wasn't really that gross, but even if it was he wasn't about to let Roman call him a pussy. He stopped kissing him long enough to slick up his own fingers, leaning forward and balancing himself with one hand against Roman's shoulder and the other rather shamelessly fingering himself.

  
  


Well, it was actually kind of shameful. A delicate act that he didn't really care for Roman to see, so he busied him with slow and passionate kisses and went to town. It's not like he wasn't already slightly wet, and Roman had did an okay job prepping him with his tongue but it would not have been enough. It was not what Roman wanted evidently, and he let his hands slip down to grab his ass before sliding down and pushing his and out of the way to do it himself. It was slightly painful because Roman had not done his part to wet his fingers, but luckily Peter had mostly taken care of that before hand.

  
  


It was easier for him though, as he used his previously busy hand to press against the bed to steady himself. It was slick and sticky and felt kind of gross against the bed sheets but the fact of the matter was that anal sex, or sex in general was kind of messy and sticky. When Roman had gotten two fingers into him he found this the best time to steer him in the right direction. He reached behind him again, gripping his hands and pressing down below the first knuckle and upwards the best he could. He worked with him to push his fingers up until he found what he was looking for.

“Stay there,” he said, wavering as he spoke and shifted his hips towards his fingers. He released his hand and used it to balance himself again and he was glad that Roman seemed to understand what he meant. He pushed his fingers into him, hooking them up with each stroke and pushing fairly directly on his prostate. He felt his stomach burn low, low whines pushing from his lungs between heavy, laborious breaths. He lowered himself so that he was laying against Roman's chest with his top half, his back arched and hips shifting to really get him to hit that sweet spot. He was a quick learner and doing very well.

  
  


  
  


He could hear Roman's breathing pick up as well as he laid against his chest, and the pounding thud of his heart racing behind his ribs. He was making a bit of a mess of him, thrusting against his stomach and leaving slick trails of precum along his skin. He must have been worked up or sex starved because as Roman pushed a third finger into him he had to really fight not to come right then. He quickly gripped his wrist, pulling it away and sitting up against Roman's stomach. His breath was shaking as he as he kept himself as still as possible, evidently worrying the upir.

“You good?” Roman asked, tracing lines onto his thigh.

  
  


“Mmm...” was all he got out, nodding and just breathing. “Fucking Christ you almost got me off.”

  
  


Roman let out a huff of a laugh, sliding his hand up to his hip absentmindedly, “You could have just let me do it.”

  
  


“That's fucking boring, though. Give me a second.”

  
  


Roman was quiet, not bothering to answer him but using the time to explore. He just kept touching him, and Peter was okay with it until Roman slid his hand from his hip to his abdomen, splaying his fingers out flat against it. He wasn't sure what he was doing, until he was.

  
  


“Dude,” Peter said, gripping his wrist and pushing it down, “Stop.”

  
  


“You don't like that?”

  
  


“Not when I'm trying to fuck you...not at all, really.”

  
  


He let his hand go back to his hip again, although Peter was sure he was really fighting not to go back.

  
  


“You can't even tell...”

  
  


“Stop talking about it. You're seriously being a boner kill right now.”

  
  


A smirk graced Roman's features and Peter knew before he said anything it was going to be something he didn't want to hear about, and boy was it. Roman let his hands travel past his hip, and his abdomen, to his chest. He ran his fingers along one of his pectoral muscles with a shit eating grin the entire time.

  
  


“You think you'll get tits?”

  
  


“Roman!” he shouted, slapping his hand away, “Are you trying to make me flaccid?”

“No...seriously though, do you?”

  
  


“I fucking hope not. You're picking the worst time to ask these questions.”

  
  


“Am I? You stopped because you were close. Are you now?”

  
  


“No...” Peter said, annoyed at the fact that Roman truly had a point. “Fucker.”

  
  


“I'm trying,” Roman said, with a raise or his brow and with such sarcastic seriousness Peter wanted to smack the shit out of him. Roman was a constant source of annoyance. The absolute worst; Peter had no idea why he was trying to sit on his dick.

  
  


  
  


He poured a generous amount of lube onto his hand and reached behind him with purpose, to grip Roman's cock tightly; too tightly to prove a point, and slick it up. He smirked as he watched Roman wince slightly before gripping the base and sitting up on his knees so he could position himself correctly. He sank down slow; it hurt like usual. Not bad, but it burned. He tried to force himself to relax but it made his legs hurt a bit to keep hovering. He wasn't really looking at Roman until he was, but he glanced up when he heard him let out a low sigh. His teeth were fastened to his lip, chewing on the side of it with furrowed brows as he watched him, waiting. The grip on his hips was a little rough; his nails were digging into the skin a bit.

  
  


  
  


Roman had other problems than just waiting for Peter to get seated. He felt an intense surge of heat in his stomach, fighting so hard not to thrust up into him, not to mention come just watching him. He liked being dominant, but he also liked Peter being on top so he could watch him. He wasn't quite sure if he could stay like this and envisioned him ending up on top again before this was over but for now he was more or less content. When Peter finally did sink down all the way he involuntarily shifted his hips up, pressing in further; as far as he could even though their skin was flush together and he could get no closer.

  
  


  
  


Peter did not move at first, he only sat there motionless balancing himself with his hands splayed against Roman's chest. Roman watched him though, and the hand on his hip, large enough to cover large areas of skin, stroked lightly along where his hand met his hip and abdomen with his thumb. Roman had never dared to touch him here before, but he felt a strange connection he had not once thought of. A seize of sudden possession, with the thought that this was his. This was _his_ , even if Peter wasn't he had left a part of him inside.

  
  


He traced a hand up his side, fingers idly dancing along the darkened ink that decorated his ribs. He took notice of every part of him. Up his torso, which was still almost as trim as it had always been. Something so different, so unfeminine, but he loved the way it looked. The way his cock sat against Roman's stomach, thighs straddling his hips and the way he bowed forward to support his weight. The slight jut of his hips, the bones of his ribs beneath his fingertips. The way he was flushed against his collar bone and the rise and fall his chest, heavier than normal. The very dull sheen of sweat that shined on his skin and left his fingers feeling slightly moist.

  
  


  
  


His hair was a curtain, and his face was slightly obscured but he could tell he wasn't really looking at him. He shifted just slightly enough so that he could see and though his head was pointed down, he looked up just enough to look him in the face. A blue framed by something so much darker, beneath the slight furrow of his brown and above the way his lips parted slightly as he breathed. Roman was suddenly stricken, but even more so when Peter straightened slightly so that instead of looking up he was looking down, shaking the hair from his face and taking in a deep breath that Roman felt against his hand, and witnessed through the expansion of skin. It fascinated him; Roman had never truly had an interest in anatomy other than eating it but there was something special here.

  
  


  
  


He felt breathless, or rather like it was caught in his throat and he could not release it. He was stricken with the realization, once again, that Peter was fucking beautiful. To be wrapped up in him once more was a euphoria he couldn't explain. It wasn't just beauty that he found there. Peter was not conventionally beautiful to him, not in the way that he should enjoy. He had something here that was so unlike what he'd been with in the past. Broad with hair in places no woman had, but in no way was he a woman other than his tumorous insides. But to him he was something so special that Roman could liken it, at this moment, to gazing upon something that shouldn't exist. Something alien and surreal.

  
  


Looking at him now, in the cheap florescent light of the hotel room that would make most people look like shit, Roman had an epiphany that he hadn't expected. A thought that came to mind deep from the recesses of his psyche; something that he had always been lurking there and he knew damn well as much as he tried to ignore its presence but Roman would continue to deny it's prior presence for the rest of his days. It was a simple phrase, consisting of only a sentence; 'I'm so fucking in love with you,'.

  
  


  
  


It made Roman's lungs seize up, a lump in this throat he couldn't swallow. He felt more terrified than aroused at the moment. He couldn't believe he'd just...thought that. It's not like Peter knew but Roman did. He wanted to bury it; wanted to throw it away and kill the feeling but it was now ingrained in every single nerve, every drop of blood pulsing through his once dead heart. He was in love with him and probably always had been. Love was bad; love was pain and messy and it's not something he wanted. He did not want love, he wanted complacency and friendship. But when truly had Roman ever felt so deeply for a friend? True, he had never had a friend like Peter, but was he ever _actually_ his friend?

  
  


  
  


Roman did not notice the way his breathing had picked up, or the way his face suddenly felt wet until Peter called attention to it.

  
  


“Roman...” Peter said, looking incredibly confused at him and Roman wanted to kick himself for how much he liked that look; it was cute as hell.

  
  


“I...” Roman started, not even sure what he was going to say because for a moment he wasn't sure what was happening. Until he realized the dampness on his face and that he had at some point started crying. He hastily wiped his eyes and took in a breath, looking away from him throwing his arm over his eyes. “Shut up.”

  
  


“Do you want me to stop?”

  
  


“No,” Roman said, his voice hoarse and his breath shaking as he let it out. It crackled slightly with the way mucus had gotten trapped in his throat and it was possibly the most unsexy thing ever.

  
  


“I mean...this kind of feels really fucked up.”

  
  


“Shut the fuck up,” Roman said. “I want this, just fucking do it. Please.”

  
  


He felt hands come to the arm covering his face, pulling it away. Roman could not bear to look at him; he was ashamed of himself for one. But Peter didn't seem entirely deterred. He did not look at him and see something pathetic and weak like Roman felt, fucking crying during sex. Who did that? Instead he kissed him, gripping both sides of his face in his hands. It was gentle and soft like warm velvet.

  
  


To Peter, it was not so pleasant. It was not awful but it wasn't pleasant. It was wet and salty, and he wasn't totally keen on getting lacrimal fluids in his mouth but he would power through. It was so incredibly surreal to him how Roman could go through emotions like this on the fly, for no obvious reason. Peter could not judge him for this because he had recently cried in the back for ten minutes off and on after hearing a car dealership commercial that for some reason played 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow', which was not at all upsetting in the least bit but it happened.

Roman was once again threatening to make his dick limp but he was going to try to give him what he asked. He just wanted to understand why. One minute he was fine, the next he looked terrified and upset. Peter definitely wasn't going to question it right now and he doubted Roman would tell him if he did. He averted his gaze from him for the time being, looking at his collar bone as he shifted his hips to start some kind of rhythm. Roman's hands found his hips again, gripping the bone and meeting the rhythm he was creating.

  
  


It was harder to get the right angle in this position but Peter managed, having told Roman he needed to do better at finding his prostate and yet in this position it was Peter who was more in control of that. Still, Roman kept his hips tilted up and he was grateful for that. He seemed to have recovered from whatever it was that had upset him, and it was as though nothing had happened. He watched him now, sucking in the corner of his lip slightly, teeth fastened, biting and brow furrowed. He was quiet; he was always quiet. Peter had not heard him make much noise ever, only when he got close. He could only hear him breathing in long exhaled breaths to which Peter matched him. For a moment there was the fleeting thought that he wished he could hear him make more noise than that.

  
  


  
  


It was pushed from his mind when Roman gripped his hips hard, pulling him forward as he thrust up and hitting his prostate which earned a startled moan from him. The heat pulled low in his stomach, building and building and he knew that if this kept on he wouldn't last that long. That was fine, though. He'd been chasing the edge for what felt like hours and he desperately met Roman's thrusts with stuttered movements, breathing out quiet moans and digging his nails into the skin of Roman's chest.

  
  


  
  


Roman suddenly shifted, putting an arm around his lower back and gripping his shoulder as he rolled the both of them over suddenly. He was taken aback for only a moment until Roman thrust into him again and he saw stars behind his eyes. The noise he made was loud and undignified but this only seemed to spur Roman on. Peter tried to reach for his shoulder to grab onto something but Roman gripped his wrist and shoved it back above his head, palm to palm, entwining their fingers together and holding it there.

  
  


He kissed him again, breathed soft moans against his lips and Peter knew he was chasing that same distant horizon. It was here that he showed the one thing Peter knew he was good at; stamina and strength. He fucked him hard like the last time, or maybe slightly harder, because each thrust actually pushed him further up the bed. Each thrust punching some choked moan from his lungs for Roman to breathe in, as they were nearly nose to nose and he kissed him intermittently, but mostly they just breathed. Breathed in each others sighs, and the words of his own tongue interlaced with desperate cries because he felt like he was about to explode. He used his other hand to grip onto Roman's shoulder blade, to hold onto him as he rode out the feeling of feeling like he was literally about to come apart at the seams.

He came with what was almost like a sob; a desperate sort of noise that was high in pitch and wavering, stuck in his throat as his lungs constricted like every other muscle in his body. His hips tilted into Roman's stomach as he came between them, the friction of his body making it all the better. Roman was not far behind and he let out a bitten back hum of pleasure and thrust hard into him once more, making Peter gasp in over-sensitivity, before spilling deep into his body.

  
  


  
  


Once he'd recovered he pulled himself out to stand from the bed and head into the bathroom. Ever the gentleman he was, like the first time, he brought him a rag. He cleaned himself lazily before depositing the rag next to the bed because there was no way in hell he was getting up. He ran a hand through his hair, brushing it away from his face and letting out a low groaning noise as he stretched his back.

  
  


“Fuck me, I need a cigarette...” he mumbled. Roman did not respond, only opened the door to the balcony, ducking outside for a moment before coming back in with an ashtray. “Did you seriously just walk out there naked?”

  
  


“It's fucking bracing,” he responded, tossing the ashtray onto the bed before rummaging through the pockets of his discarded pants to pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Wordlessly he tossed both of them to him.

  
  


“Seriously?” Peter asked.

  
  


“That kid's not gonna die from a cigarette or two. Fuck knows Olivia smoked when she was pregnant with me. I turned out fine.”

  
  


“Did you?” Peter asked, pulling one from the pack and lighting it.

  
  


“Fuck you,” Roman responded. It was light hearted but Peter thought that there was actually a little bit of aggression in it. He sat on the edge of the bed as he grabbed his own cigarette and lit it as well. Peter took a drag from his own before speaking, voice strained as smoke billowed from his lungs.

  
  


“So...earlier,”

  
  


“Drop it,” Roman said. “I don't want to talk about it.”

  
  


“Alright,” Peter said. He was feeling a little annoyed at the way Roman was acting. Roman still seemed perturbed about something and he wanted to do what he could to take his mind off of it. “You're pretty good with your tongue.”

  
  


Roman let out a startled chuckle, swinging his legs onto the bed to lay on his side, facing Peter and balancing his chin on his hand, cigarette dangling from his lips before he put it in the ashtray. “It sounded like it.” He took one more drag and Peter turned on his side, watching the smoke curl from his lips; he watched him in general. Delicate hands, long like the rest of him, cradling the white stick in his fingers. He had nice hands. His lips were parted and he swiped his tongue along the lower one before looking up at him. Fucking pretty asshole. “Why do you only make noise when I fuck you?”

  
  


“Because it feels nice,” Peter said, letting his own cigarette rest in the ash tray that sat between the bed.

  
  


“Huh...” Roman said, and it seemed like the two of them never let smoke leave the room as Roman sucked in from the cigarette in his fingers. His breath was shaking as he breathed in and breathed out, smoke curling like it did before and framing his lips which were still swollen and bitten. “You should show me.”

  
  


“Show you what?” Peter asked, confusion in his tone.

  
  


“You're gonna start tripping out later, right?” Roman asked. “So you're going to need something to take your mind off of it.”

  
  


“Okay...” Peter said, drawing out the A a little, “Yeah, I guess. And?”

  
  


“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Roman asked somewhat aggressively. “I'm saying you should fuck me.”

  
  


“What?” Peter asked in disbelief, tone high in pitch like the kind of way you ask when someone says something unbelievable and probably a lie. A joke, that's what it sounded like.

  
  


“I'm serious.”

  
  


“That's...” Peter said, clearing his throat and nervously running a hand through his hair. “I don't know if I should.”

  
  


“You think I'm fragile?”

  
  


“No, but you're asking me to pretty much ...take your virginity.”Peter said as he took one more drag from his cigarette.

  
  


“So what? You see me fucking other guys? I don't have an interest in anyone else. I wanna know.”

  
  


“So you're interested in me,” Peter teased. Probably something he shouldn't have done given how he was always trying to dissuade Roman away from being romantic with him.

  
  


“Interested in not watching you walk around the room like a fuckin' crackhead.”

  
  


Peter stared at the cigarette between his fingertips. Though he had not smoked much of it it was nearly gone. It was beginning to make him feel kind of sick. Still even though it made him kind of ill addiction was far more pressing. He breathed deeply again and breathed smoke like some kind of dragon as he spoke. “I don't know what I'll do to you.”

  
  


“Shove your dick in me, I'd guess.”

  
  


“I mean I don't know how I'll be. I should be turning tonight but I'm not. I might hurt you.”

  
  


“I don't care,” Roman said, his tone conveying that he was annoyed that Peter was denying him of this. “You can't kill me.”

  
  


“It will hurt,” Peter said, drawing lines on the comforter with his fingertip; this conversation made him nervous. “In general.”

  
  


“I don't care,” Roman said, punctuating the last word with a pause and snuffing out the remainder of his cigarette into the ashtray. Peter took one last drag of his own and blew the smoke towards Roman's face with the intention of being a shit, and Peter watched as instead of turning away he breathed it in.

  
  


“Fine,” he said, snuffing out his cigarette and rolling onto his back again, “Since you asked so nicely.” He let his hand rest on his stomach to try to quell the nausea that kept swirling there. It could have been the cigarette, it could have been morning sickness, it could have been both. “Just hope I don't throw up on you.”

  
  


“Hot,” Roman said, and Peter blindly swung his arm to smack the closest inch of skin he could find which was his collar-bone.

  
  


“I don't care what gross fetishes you probably have. If I throw up on you I'll just be upset.” he mumbled, and with that he fell asleep very suddenly.

  
  


  
  


Roman stood from the bed and gathered his clothes from the floor, slipping on his pants commando and his shirt which he left unbuttoned. He dragged a flask from his duffelbag and headed back out onto the balcony again. The concrete was freezing on his feet but it was an almost welcome pain. A throwback to his glory days of self harming and drowning himself in coke and booze. He dropped himself lazily onto the chair and twisted the flask open, swigging it back and enjoying the burn. He almost wished he had another cigarette; he did but he didn't want to go back inside to get it. To feel such heat and burning, horrible taste on his tongue in contrast to this freezing air. He was not at all dressed for this.

  
  


  
  


Roman was at this point a lost cause. His mind was reeling on how he could never go back from here. He could never forget about that confession his own mind had given to itself. Love...fucking love, how stupid. He was almost angry; he was angry at Peter for making him feel this way. Subconsciously he wanted to push him away, he wanted Peter to hate him so maybe he could forget about feeling this way. He couldn't hate Peter, though. He could only act mildly pissy until he fell back into the realm of loving him again. He was utterly doomed.

  
  


  
  


That's why he asked him, truthfully, to fuck him. Roman wanted to deny it, that maybe it was only a whim but he couldn't. He knew; if he gave himself to Peter maybe one day he would come around. Roman didn't want that, though. Relationships were messy and friendship was easier. Fuckups weren't as big of a deal and the pain wasn't as great. But wasn't Roman such a fucking masochist as it was? How many times had he let blood flow from his own skin for reasons he never truly understood.

  
  


He let his gaze fall over the railing towards the white monstrosity in the parking lot below. He was startled when the roar of a motorcycle from nearby alerted him to a dark skinned woman pulling away from somewhere near their van. She looked towards his general area, but he could not make much out other than the tight braids that swung from her shoulders as she left. Something seemed familiar about her but Roman could not put his finger on it. It gave him a nervous feeling in his gut but that feeling dissipated when he felt the chill bite at his skin again. He would wait here until darkness fell, as penitence for his own stupidity.

  
  


  
  


As Peter slept, unaware of the internal conflicts Roman was dealing with and how emo he was being, he dreamed. He dreamed of the dull reddish hues that flooded Destiny's room as he lay on her bed, naked and comfortable. She wasn't there obviously but it was almost like a memory, and he turned to his side to find Miranda there. Miranda...Had they forgotten her? Peter remembered, but was she truly remembered? She was lying there just as nude and she smiled at him sadly. She spoke but it was muffled and nonsensical, like a language that did not exist. What she had to say seemed important but he knew none of it.

  
  


“What?” Peter had asked and she only frowned. She leaned forward to kiss him. She tasted like formaldehyde. It was gross but at the same time he was utterly captivated, and he gripped her face, threading fingers through her hair and kissing her passionately. She did not smell of her sweet perfume but of chemicals and blood. Peter would not have understood it even if he had the presence of mind to do so.

  
  


  
  


His fingers ran along her chest, gripping the softness of her breasts and feeling a sudden longing, but her breasts were almost cold. She was cold though she looked fine. He moved down to place his mouth upon them and tasted the metal on his tongue, pulled it with his teeth and bit her harder than he'd meant to. He tasted a different kind of metal on his tongue then; iron, copper, blood. She only moaned and he ended up with his face between her legs. She tasted like chemicals and salt but he devoured her. He ate the red flower between her legs and hungered ever more so. He could feel that hunger that he had once felt in a dream a month ago. He was hungry, he was hurt. He hurt and he wanted to devour, and so he did. A wolf between her legs, snarling and eating her; snatch first.

  
  


  
  


He awoke in a cold sweat with the only light the dull lamp beside him and the glow of the full moon from the glass of the balcony. He tasted phantom blood in his mouth and almost wished it wasn't phantom. He was delirious and his body hurt. He felt his bones crack in a way that was unnatural; the wolf, trying to break free but utterly failing. It made him groan, sitting up only long enough to bend himself forward and press his face to the bed in an upright fetal position.

  
  


The hands he felt on his shoulder made him jerk up in terror; they were fucking freezing. He was terrified that he would look to his side and find Miranda standing there with everything between her legs torn to pieces like Brooke Bluebell. It was only Roman who was uncharacteristically cold though it seemed he'd come from the balcony. He was wearing hardly anything and he could imagine he was cold.

  
  


“Does it hurt?” he asked, and Peter only nodded. Fuck, he wanted out so bad. He pushed himself close to Roman because he was suddenly feeling too warm and Roman was incredibly cool. His fingers danced along his back and his ribs, to feel the way they cracked under them in the wolfs desperation to escape.

  
  


“F-fuck,” he hissed out, letting out stuttered breaths and rocking forward slightly. Roman let his fingers dance beneath his chin until he brought him up to look at him.

  
  


“My offer still stands.”

  
  


“Yeah...okay,” Peter said, sitting more upright. “Alright.”He exhaled slowly, rocking again slightly as he did so because he had so much pent up energy and pain it felt like the only thing that would help.

  
  


“You don't have to,” Roman assured.

  
  


“I've got to do something,” he responded. This time, despite the fact that he hurt and wanted to tear the skin from his bones, Peter did actually feel a bit of desire stirring low within him but it was more overshadowed by a different need. Roman, like the last time, was the first to make the move although he did it with such a calculated, gentle precision that it almost startled him at first.

  
  


  
  


His cold fingers gripped his face and pulled him forward to place a gentle kiss on his lips. It was almost as though he was testing the waters. It was not rough, hard, and passionate like he usually surprised him with. He kissed him back just as softly and ran a hand up his face to tangle into his hair. There was almost something more sensual about this. His other hand ran up his chest; it was freezing and his nipples were hard enough to cut diamonds but that made them all the more fun to run his hand against. He had unpleasant flashbacks in his mind as he did it but he pushed them away the best he could.

  
  


“Why the fuck are you so cold?” Peter mumbled against his lips.

  
  


“Because it's cold outside,” Roman said, running his hand up Peter's side.

  
  


“Why were you _outside_.” he specified. Roman didn't answer him but he felt him shrug. He pulled away from him and decided not to question it further before he decided he wanted Roman sitting up, but not where he was. He wordlessly piled the pillows into one spot along the headboard, along with part of the blanket and managed to navigate him against it.

Roman looked exceptionally calm at the moment. He truly had no fear about what was about to happen. Losing one's virginity in such a manner usually was met with anxiety; he had been, but Roman just didn't care. He pushed the open shirt from his shoulders and looked back at him for a moment, to find that he was staring at him with such a determined intensity that it was almost unnerving.

  
  


“Are you sure you're okay with this?”

  
  


“Why do you keep asking me that?”

  
  


“I'm just making sure...You can back out if you want to.”

  
  


“I'm good,” Roman said as he suddenly shifted his hips and pushed his pants off. He wasn't all that hard and Peter felt he had his work cut out for him. But he had really never taken the time to look at him like this, and flaccid as he might be he was noticing things he hadn't before. Mostly that he didn't have a lot of body hair. There was a little bit but it only gathered along his pubic bone and did not descend much further down. Peter would have thought he shaved had the notion not been ridiculous.

  
  


  
  


He absentmindedly ran has hand along his inner thigh and again noted it was very smooth, almost girly. He had thin legs but they were shapely in a way that was pleasing to him. He looked up at him to find that he was a little less stone faced and seemed a little more aroused though he hadn't gotten much harder. It was a better look on him...Fuck, he was pretty. How did he have a right to be this pretty? He leaned forward to kiss him again and did so much rougher than before. It was somewhat different; like he was in control. He'd been in control before but he knew at this point Roman was truly submitting to him. Fucking shit, there he went again.

  
  


That weird fetish he had for Roman submitting to him. No rich pretty boy, calling the shots, fucking him into the mattress (though he was good at it). Roman was at his mercy. He breathed in deep as he felt fingers in his hair and slotted his hips between Roman's thighs, rutting against him absentmindedly and feeling him get harder beneath him. He reached a hand between the two of them to grip his cock, using the precum that was beading at the head to slick down his hand and provide lubrication. He felt him breath in against his mouth before letting it out, shuttering softly.

  
  


He hated to pull away but he did, if only to watch him. He could see the muscles in his stomach tense as he rolled his hips against his hand with each downward stroke. Peter truly never thought this would be something he would ever desire, or enjoy. He gripped the side of his face with his free hand, brushing his lip with his thumb. He wasn't quite sure what he was even asking with this gesture but Roman parted his lips, took his thumb into his mouth and bit the tip of it with his teeth and licked lightly with his tongue. It made his breath catch in his throat and he pushed further with an instinct he hadn't even considered. Roman took his fingers into his mouth and gazed at him with an intensity that only made the heat in his belly grow hotter.

  
  


He found himself pulling his hand away and slipping it between his legs. He would use lube, of course, but he would use this too. Roman was practically asking for it. He shifted his hips up, parted his thighs like he was born for it. Jesus Christ he should have been. Peter was getting far too ahead of himself; far too invested. He should not be this interested and excited at this prospect but yet here he was, his own breathing stuttered and heavy as he touched the places no one had dared to go before him.

  
  


The reaction he got was incredibly ambiguous; Roman averted his gaze and bit the back of his hand, brow furrowed but it looked almost like he was confused rather than aroused. Still his chest heaved with each breath but it could be arousal are nerves.

  
  


“Are you alright?” Peter asked.

  
  


“Yeah...” Roman breathed, “It feels really fuckin' weird though.” Roman shifted slightly as though he was antsy and trying to get comfortable, “I'm not really sure why people like this yet.”

  
  


“It takes some getting used to,” Peter assured, grabbing the lube from the table again so that it was a little less dry. With spit and everything it might help. It might have done more harm than good because the second he poured it down to where his fingers were Roman took in a hiss of breath and swallowed heavily. Peter raised a brow at him in inquisition and Roman answered.

  
  


“It's really fucking wet.”

  
  


“You don't want me to go in dry.”

  
  


“I know..” Roman said, annoyed. “Sorry.”

  
  


“I'm telling you I can stop...” Peter said, stilling himself.

  
  


“And I'm telling you I'm not a pussy, just do it. Eating people felt weird for a while too.”

  
  


“You eat people?” Peter inquired, “Regularly?”

  
  


“No, smartass. Hurt a few people, ate that one guy; so did you. Do what you're going to do, this is not a topic that turns me on at all.”

  
  


“I'd hope not,” Peter said, continuing his ministrations until he finally felt he could push his finger in. He thought, anyway. Roman was difficult or rather his muscles were. He was a literal tight-ass. “This is going to go a lot easier if you relax,”

  
  


“I'm trying,” Roman said, his voice slightly strained, “Jesus Christ that's fucking weird.”

  
  


“Sorry...” Peter mumbled.

  
  


Despite the fact that Roman continuously stated that this was something he wanted his body was very insistent that this was an unwanted invasion and was making everything more difficult. Getting two fingers into him felt like it took an hour but once he had enough room he decided to show Roman just why he enjoyed this so much. He attempted to focus but the wolf was beginning to return now. It was in the back of his head and begging to get out despite the fact that he was, somewhat, distracted. But maybe he wasn't distracted enough. Still he hooked his fingers upwards and pulled back, pushing forward again and trying to find the slightly different protrusion beneath the mucous membrane.

  
  


Finding it did not cause the spontaneous reaction he might have hoped for, though he supposed that wasn't really realistic. He'd found it there but it took some work to get Roman to actually realize what he was doing. He did listen to the hitch of his breath when he'd pushed lightly against it and he was disappointed as hell that he didn't bring out that much of a reaction.

  
  


“Can you feel that?” he finally asked.

  
  


“I...I think,” he mumbled. “It feels sort of good, I guess but nothing to write home about. And here you were bitching about me being bad with this. You've got fucking practice.”

  
  


“I think you're just deformed,” Peter defended, something that was clearly a lie but he didn't like having his skills questioned. It seemed Roman was one of the unlucky few who had less sensitivity here than he did. He was going to just have to work harder. He pulled back a bit and pushed up hard, and he heard Roman hiss a bit because his nails scraped harder than he'd like. In hindsight doing this with long nails was probably a mistake.

  
  


When he pushed forward, harder than he had before, the reaction was not what he'd expected. Roman tensed up so hard that if he went any further he might implode. The sharp gasp he elicited seemed sexual but he was beginning to wonder if he'd somehow hurt him. Though it seemed for a moment he forgot how to breathe and Peter hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he breathed out again, audible and wavering.

  
  


“Did that hurt you?” he asked.

  
  


“Fuck no,” Roman breathed out, and though Peter was still he was having trouble evening out his breathing.

  
  


He took this as a sign to keep going, and so he did. It invited him to a side of Roman he'd never seen, and he was wondering if even Roman knew about this side of him. He knew what he sounded like during sex; generally quiet until the end, but this was something different. He breathed out moans that were low, deep, from somewhere low in his diaphragm and at the bottom of his lungs. He could hear the way they constricted each time and made it hard to breathe. He seemed both tense and relaxed, in the way that he did so whenever Peter pushed against his prostate but he was able to move much easier now.

  
  


  
  


But somehow he was incredibly aroused by just this. His heart was pounding in his ears, his breathing shaky and audible though he didn't think Roman even noticed. There was such desperation pulsing between his legs that he could not help but to shift his hips slightly on instinct to get some kind of friction, and he could feel the slickness that he left in his wake. But even Roman was getting impatient, and it seemed that he was chasing a stronger feeling now that he had gotten used to him. He shifted his hips against his hand impatiently and let out a low whine of annoyance.

  
  


“Just fucking do it already.” He said, and it came out strained and exhausted.

  
  


“You think you're ready?” Peter asked, really hoping the answer was yes at this point.

  
  


“I don't care if I'm not, it's not enough anymore.”

  
  


“What a fuckin' sizequeen,” Peter remarked with a laugh, pulling his hand away and frowning slightly when he found blood beneath his nails. He'd been rougher than he thought although that seemed to be what Roman needed. He seemed unphased by it regardless.

  
  


“Your dick's not that big.”

  
  


“It will feel a lot bigger than it looks,” Peter remarked, narrowing his eyes at him with something that was only half mock offense. He took up the bottle of lube again which seemed like it as very quickly becoming empty with how much they'd used it tonight and gave himself a few quick strokes using it, finding that though it felt nice to touch himself it was barely enough.

  
  


He felt a certain nervousness in the pit of his stomach as he lined up with him, like there was something far too intimate about this. A sort of no going back from here. Was this what had happened with Roman? But it wasn't just that; Peter was truly afraid of hurting him. Of him losing himself and this turning into something far less like sex and more like him trying to kill him mid coitus. Flashes of dreams burst through his mind like they were distant memories, or perhaps warnings or premonitions.

  
  


“Do it,” Roman commanded and this broke him from his thoughts, and so almost wordlessly he did. He pushed forward and found that like he had suspected Roman's body wholeheartedly tried to keep him out. The only thing he could think to do was kiss him, leaning forward and gripping his face with one hand while he kept hold of his cock with the other. He kissed him like Roman was air and he needed this to breathe; with an intensity he didn't even know he had at that moment. It fueled him so much further, enough to stop being so scared, to push through. It didn't seem to bother him that much and he fisted his hands in Peter's hair, gripping his face and holding him there.

  
  


  
  


He pushed forward, slowly, ever so fucking slowly at a snails pace that drove him mad but he would not wreck Roman's insides for no reason because he liked to believe he wasn't an asshole. He felt the breathing beneath him quicken, harder and faster into his mouth and he wasn't quite sure if it was pain or not. Roman soon grew tired of kissing him for the moment and leaned his head back to let out a low groan as Peter finally sheathed himself fully.

  
  


“You weren't lying,” he said, though his tone wavered in something that sounded like it was between arousal and pain.

  
  


“I wasn't. Did I hurt you?”

  
  


Roman shook his head, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the pillows as he swallowed and breathed. “I just...kind of feel like I really need to use the bathroom but can't do shit about it.”

  
  


Peter only laughed at this; it was quick and a little surprised but he knew what Roman was talking about. “Well, please don't. This really doesn't hurt at all to you?”

  
  


“No, it hurts...but it could be worse.”

  
  


He had no response to this other than a vague nod and the need to lean his chest down and gave him a chaste kiss before he moved. It took him a good few tries to get into the right position, and a rhythm that Roman seemed most comfortable with, but once he did it was as though he'd come alive again after being dead for so long. His hands were all over him; along his back, his shoulders, his nails in his skin leaving light welts on them as he moved. He was _so_ fucking into it now, sounding breathless and winded every time. He could practically see his skin split, to come apart at the seams, spilling out light and blood. Hushed words and breathless whispers that fled forth and surrounded his entire being; coming apart, he was coming apart. Now if only he could make him come. He wanted pleasure, of that he was getting two fold, but at the moment his task was getting Roman off. Like a power move to show that he could.

  
  


But the further Peter got into this 'task', the more he seemed to lose himself in something else. There was pleasure, yes; spreading through his groin and abdomen like wildfire and forcing shaking breaths from his lungs. But Peter so feared the hunger and the need for something _else_ in his mind, and it was very slowly taking over him. And after some time it no longer became about making Roman come, it was about fucking him into oblivion. He put one hand on Roman's shoulder and pushed him back, feeling the need to hold him down almost as he rammed his hips against him harder than he'd ever fucked a girl. Of course, Roman liked it; fuckin' little masochist, it seemed like this should hurt but it only spurred him on. He could almost barely hear Roman now, though; his cries were dulled and Peter could only hear his heartbeat in his ears.

  
  


He was very dully aware of his own moaning but after some time it was almost wrong; shredded and distorted with growls that came from something that wasn't human. Somehow this excited Roman even more but at this point he was barely aware of that; he just needed to fuck. His grip on Roman's shoulder tightened and before he knew it he was surging down, his teeth sinking into his skin so hard it drew blood. It drew a _lot_ of blood, but it was not food he was after. He didn't want to eat him, somewhere in the forefront of his bestial, primal mind he knew he wanted to mark him. He wanted to bite hard; hard enough to scar.

  
  


The moment Peter bit him he felt the feeling of warm against his stomach, knowing now that he had truly achieved his former goal but he couldn't let go. He came deep within him with a growl but he still kept his teeth in his skin. The blood tasted bitter, almost like something that was already dead. It pulsed into his mouth like a fresh kill, though, but didn't taste nearly the same. It seemed though, in Roman's mind, that he should do the same and he finally started to come to grips with reality when he felt pain in his own neck. Roman bit down and did not let go.

  
  


When the pain spread through his neck and he began to remember he was truly human, he at first wanted to shove Roman away but he seemed very deep. The oddest of sensations overtook him as he remained there, teeth in his skin and sucking at the wound like a hungry babe. It started first with a slight tingling sensation that began to numb him to the pain, and then relaxation. Roman managed to flip him onto his back like a rag doll and feasted on him without consent but at the moment he didn't care. He felt so incredibly relaxed. Roman pulled away from him with a sort of gruesome sounding wet pop and dismounted from Peter's hips to clean himself off with the rag that had been left there earlier. Gross and dried with the evidence of their earlier intimacy but Peter would not lie and say he wouldn't have done the same thing.

  
  


  
  


He leaned over to kiss him, and he could taste so much conflict on his tongue. The taste of something bitter, of something copper, of something animal and wild. Had he bled his own blood, or had he bled the wolf's? Roman wiped it away haphazardly with his thumb until he was mostly cleaned, then drew it into his mouth and gathered what had spilled on his own lips. It was gross, but it was Roman.

  
  


“Fuckin' psychopath,” Peter croaked out.

  
  


“Me?” Roman asked, gesturing to his shoulder, “The fuck is this?”

  
  


“I think I was trying to mark you,” Peter said, noting his words were slightly slurred like he was drunk on the power of bedding Roman in a way no one had before.

  
  


“You're a fuckin' animal. Literally.”

  
  


“Was it good though?”

  
  


“...Yeah. It was pretty great.”

  
  


“It's a shame because I can't remember half of it.”

  
  


“You got...weird, half way through. Rough, kind of mean, biting.”

  
  


“Fuck...” Peter said, suddenly realizing the gravity of this situation. Whatever calm had washed over him before was beginning to dissipate. “Fuck, I'm sorry I fucked this up. I didn't want to hurt you.”

  
  


“It's fine,” Roman assured. “I liked it.”

  
  


“Are you just saying that?”

  
  


“No...Seriously, it was kind of hot. You should put a bandaid on your neck, though.”

  
  


“Think it'd take more than a band-aid,” Peter mumbled, “It's fine. I'm...fucking exhausted, honestly.” He wanted to sleep again despite the fact that he'd just woken up it felt like. It seemed that this really took it out of him, especially since his mind was constantly trying to turn when he wouldn't. He could steel feel it but it was once again subdued by exhaustion.

  
  


He watched Roman with a sense of curiosity despite his tired mind and a sense of inexplicable longing came over him. The hotel was sort of cold and the best thing to do when it was cold was steal someone else's body heat. That's what he told himself, anyway. That was a fucking lie, though. He was craving that almost girlish domesticity, because he'd never done this with girls, they'd just done this with him. He was almost sure this had something to do with hormones.

  
  


Without warning he disrupted the pillow nest he was laying on to half ass attempt to put it back to the way it was. It was awkward but it gave him the option of truly laying down. He pushed Roman into laying down with him and wordlessly slotted himself against his side. He could feel him tense up slightly for a moment out of what seemed like fear but he eventually calmed down.

  
  


“Well hello,” Roman said, breathing out a nervous laugh. “What's gotten into you?”

  
  


“It's cold,” Peter mumbled.

  
  


Roman shifted to grab the blanket from where they were laying on top of it. A lot of movement had to be done to dislodge it from beneath them but it ended up over at least half of them. Instead of pulling away Roman instead rolled over to face him, letting his hand come to rest on his shoulder.

  
  


“Cold, huh?” Roman asked, and Peter knew he'd been caught but Roman could be less of a dick about it. Really it wasn't that much of a dick move but it pissed him off.

  
  


“Fuck you, fine.” Peter said, leaning his head against his chest, “I think it's hormone shit.”

  
  


“Hormones..okay,” he said. He brought the hand on his shoulder to his hair, pushing it from his face before tilting his head up by pushing against his jaw. He leaned down to kiss him and for some reason this was incredibly bizarre to Peter. Roman never kissed him like this, not really. He kissed him when they were fucking or when they were going to. He kissed him the time Peter had started it, but Peter had certainly started it. This was unwarranted and strange but even so it made him feel like he was melting. A low drop in his stomach, like it was trying to switch places with his bladder, but in a good way. It was good and that was bad.

  
  


When he pulled away Peter felt like he was looking at him like he was dumbstruck and the short and breathy laugh he gave out just made him annoyed, but at the same time also made him feel warm in places it shouldn't. Almost like arousal but the warmth was higher, in his actual stomach and spreading through his veins.

  
  


“Hormones,” Roman repeated.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“If that's your excuse, it's mine too.”

  
  


“It's not an excuse...This shit makes me feel like a fucking girl. You're not pregnant, either.”

  
  


“Thank God,” Roman sighed out, “But it's like a sort of chemical change in the brain or something. Sometimes guys get sick or gain weight in sympathy, and they can get super affectionate towards whoever they've knocked up...I think,”

  
  


“I don't care if that's right or not, I think you're full of shit.”

  
  


“The first part is true at least,” Roman said, running his hand along the hair that fell closest to the exposed side of his face. He was quiet for a moment, he was thinking. “Why did you bite me?”

  
  


“Why did you bite _me_?”

  
  


“Because you bit me, I thought it was only fair.”

  
  


“It was fucking weird...” Peter said, trying to think back on the moment, “You biting me, I mean...it didn't hurt. It did for a minute but then it stopped hurting and felt really good.”

  
  


“Pryce says the true meaning of upir venom has yet to be discovered. Maybe it's that.”

“You have _venom?”_ Peter asked in disbelief, “Like a fucking snake or something?”

  
  


“Not to kill, obviously. Answer my question. Do wolves mark things?”

  
  


“I mean, they piss on things but...I don't know, maybe I was wrong. Wolves ...when they mate, they bite the scruff of whatever they're screwing. Your shoulder was probably the closest thing I could get to.”

  
  


“Then why did you say you were trying to mark me?”

  
  


“Because I felt drunk as shit after you bit me.” Peter defended. But he could remember that one part of biting him, of trying to mark him; that had been his thought process then but maybe wires just got crossed. Maybe he was just trying to hold on because he truly couldn't figure out why he wanted to mark him. At the moment it felt like that was part of his primal nature but that part of his nature didn't exist. He knew that half of him had been human and the other half canine, both of them intercepting and creating something that was not at all a person but just enough so to not make it weird. No, it was still pretty fucking weird. “I think I was wrong,” Peter finally said.

  
  


“It's going to scar,” Roman said with mock hurt.

  
  


“You don't scar, shut up.” Peter said, to which Roman raised the arm not trapped beneath him to reveal the thin white line traveling up from his wrists, “I do.”

  
  


Peter felt a sudden remorse; a guilt for Roman showing him those scars. He'd seen them before, he was sure, but had he _really_ seen them? He knew about them but he had never given them a true notice, not like when they were shoved in his face. He reached out to grip his arm, pulling it down and running his fingers along the underside of his forearm where the scar was. He knew what Roman was; that he was technically dead, but this was such proof. His heart was beating but he had died and the blood that pulsed through his veins was tainted. He had tasted that.

  
  


“Sometimes I forget you're dead...” Peter said.

  
  


“I'm not dead.”

  
  


“But you were, and no offense, but you kind of taste like it.”

  
  


“Sorry we can't all taste like Mr. Call of the Wild here.”

  
  


“Are you saying that's what I taste like? A dog?”

  
  


Roman averted his gaze and pulled his arm away so that he could let his fingers dance idly along the bones of his forearm. It was a sort of intimate act that made Peter slightly uncomfortable.

  
  


“It was kind of different this time but it was almost the same. You're like...wild. You don't taste like people, or whatever that shit Pryce gives me tastes like. Like raw power and what the embodiment of the forest might taste like. And iron.”

  
  


“Electricity and dirt...thanks.” Peter said, leaning against Roman's chest again and breathing in. “God you smell like sweat and blood.”

  
  


“At least it's not wet dog.”

  
  


To this Peter used the hand closest to his chest to punch him in the shoulder before he decided he was going to ignore anything more he said and sleep. Hormones it may have been, Roman was truly very warm to him right now and he absorbed it like a reptile.

  
  


  
  


It was always when Peter slept that it left Roman alone with his thoughts. He was always thinking but in the silence of the night when he had Peter curled up against him like a cat he could only think. It was hard not to think about what had just happened. He'd let Peter fuck him; it was a big step to him, he thought, to give away all his power like that, and Peter had sort of taken advantage of that. Not on purpose and he knew that was true. Peter had warned him he wasn't sure what would happen. It was true that he'd liked it and this almost made him feel ashamed. He didn't like being proven wrong and Peter had proved him wrong, because at first he had felt incredibly uncomfortable. He had almost wished he'd disliked it. He wanted to make himself a martyr for Peter. He wanted him to hurt him. He wanted to show him what he'd take just for him to notice that he cared without having to say it.

  
  


  
  


But at the same time he went in hoping he enjoyed it. Roman was nothing if not conflicted at all times it seemed like. The inside of his head was a constant mess. He enjoyed it when it felt good and he enjoyed it when it hurt. Fucking Christ if he didn't love it when Peter held him down and bit him. In the back of his mind he knew he craved the pain, and he knew it was fucked up. He knew it was fucked up to enjoy being fucked, for the first time, by something that wasn't human. He could see it in his eyes, in the way he moved, in the way he growled and what came out was not Peter but an animal. Not that he wanted to fuck wolves but he knew what he got with Peter he would get nowhere else. He was so fucking special, and good god his _eyes_. He stared him down several times and Roman knew he was not imagining it when they turned gold, glowing. It was fascinating. A supernatural beast trapped between forms and brimming with power. A beast that could make him feel so good it felt like it traveled up his entire spine.

  
  


  
  


It was a bit of a lie when Roman said he'd bitten him to be fair, but that wasn't true, he just wanted to. He loved the way he tasted more than any blood he'd ever had. He'd tasted it once and had always wanted it again. He used this as an excuse, but in some way biting him wasn't just to feed; it felt intimate and he now craved any kind of intimacy so much despite the fact that it terrified him.

  
  


He knew now that he loved him and yet he was still afraid that Peter would stir up these feelings inside of him, to make him realize just how much he loved him. He knew before that he was afraid for Peter to be affectionate with him at all because it was just a matter of time before it made him realize. Now it was mostly the same and he just prayed it didn't make him fall further. Roman had already fallen so far, so deep, that if he fell further he may never be able to climb out of this pit that Peter had created.

  
  


  
  


He was so fucking doomed because he couldn't comprehend feeling this for anyone else. He didn't know how he could move on, find someone else so that he could ignore the feelings he felt for his best friend that he knew would only become worse. He was stuck with him every day now and like things had gone this would only get worse. It had only been two and so months since he started feeling this for him, before he was stuck on the road with him constantly. Sleeping in the same bed nightly and wishing so much he could hold him every time.

  
  


  
  


While he slept Roman decided to do something Peter had already expressed dislike to, but he couldn't say no when he was asleep. This was some rapist sounding shit now that he thought of it but on the other hand he tried to tell himself it was innocent. He slipped his hand between them, down his front, to rest the flat of his palm on his abdomen. Roman didn't know why he wanted to do it so badly. Maybe it was just because he was told he couldn't, because there was nothing there. Peter was still normal physically and yet when he laid his hand here he almost felt like this thing was calling out to him. Exuding some kind of aura, some pulse, that made him want nothing more than to protect it and the body it was resting in. He wanted to feel connected in any way he could, because this was his, theirs. He vaguely wondered how much Peter felt it.

  
  


Before Peter had the chance to wake up and tell him off he moved his hand from his abdomen to his lower back, to pull him close but not enough to wake him up. He lowered his head to bury it in his hair, kissing the top of his head and feeling the slight tickle of a sneeze the way it invaded his nose but he suppressed it. He fell asleep like this, with the light on, because he dared not disturb him enough to wake him up. Not when holding him like this felt so good.

 

 

 

_**ART:** _

 

_**The van:** _

 

_**** _

 

_**** _

  
  


  
  


  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to AO3 user Crest who told me to feel free to extend any chapter with Romancek porn but I don't think this is what she/he meant whoops 
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry if there is any inconsistencies here I have a bad memory 
> 
> Also, later when Peter is more knocked up I considered doing some art but I don't want to if it's going to freak people out so let me know what you guys want/think in the comments and I will or won't do it. He'll be clothed so don't worry about and nudie judy preggos. 
> 
> and spoiler alert, he won't get very big


	8. The Things They Didn't Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning : This chapter has some gross things in it, mostly including bodily functions, off color toilet humor because I'm five, and sickly things but I tried not to put too much detail into it   
> There is art at the end but be warned that there is nudity and gore in it

The passage of time during long days on the road had begun to drift. It may have been two weeks, it may have been longer, but the two of them were very quickly running into a problem that they should have earlier anticipated. What Pryce had given them of what was probably better described as a human slurry was beginning to run low, despite the fact that Roman tried to keep feeding to a minimum. But with its dwindling supply both of them were starting to get nervous. It was nowhere near close enough to be able to go home; it was too dangerous and there was absolutely no way that they would get home in time before Roman had to start turning to actual people. He could of course kill livestock but the hunger had been so great before that the phrase 'hungry enough to eat a horse' was quite literal. The truth was that upirs simply couldn't survive like this, not without going crazy.

  
  


One afternoon, on a long stretch of road pelted by rain and cold winds, Roman broached a question he didn't ever want to have to ask. The radio was droning on; he wasn't even sure what it was, but he reached to turn it down and then stared at the road in silence for a moment. Peter had been half dosing for in the front seat and looked at him expectantly when he did so, because it usually meant he had something to say.

  
  


  
  


For the past week or so looking at Peter had been very bizarre. Not because of his new found epiphany, but because Peter had shaved down to stubble mostly. He said it was easier on him due to how much he got sick but it felt weird to have none, and it almost made him look younger. Not so much younger but from a time past, like he was looking at a ghost. It left him with a strange since of nostalgia and dejavu. Like maybe he was back, and he could tell him all the things he should have before he'd fucked up everything.

  
  


Would it have been any better, though? To watch him now with Letha, alone, knowing he'd never have a chance with him? Like he did anyway, he was sure, but there was that inkling. That one spark of hope he held close to his frozen heart to keep it just warm enough so it would continue beating. So he could keep living. But it was as almost as though shadow threatened to destroy that sparking ember; the true realization that somewhere deep in his soul he was almost glad that Letha was out of the way. It made him feel monstrous, cruel, disgusting. He wanted to deny it but Roman found that denying things didn't seem to work much anymore. He could never deny how much he loved Letha, perhaps more than just as a cousin, or a sister, perhaps. That part disgusted him as well. He'd do anything to have her back, but he'd lose everything else. He'd lose both Nadia and whatever this second child of his might be. Perhaps there would not have been this rift between him and Peter, and Peter could have been so much happier, but his light would only serve to chase him further into the darkness. Misery loves company.

  
  


  
  


“What if I have to kill people?” he finally asked, feeling like he'd been dwelling on this shit in his head for hours.

  
  


“What?” Peter asked, not sure if he'd heard right.

  
  


“You know I'm running out of that shit...I mean, what if I hurt someone?”

  
  


  
  


Peter made a low groaning noise in the back of this throat, rubbing a hand over his face like he didn't want to be having this conversation. “Why are you asking me?”

  
  


“I...I'm not I guess I just...what will you do? What if I kill someone? What if one day I just get so fucking hungry and I can't help myself? I mean, you don't know what it was like before this...like you're so goddamn hungry, all the time, and it hurts, and I don't wanna go back to that. But I don't want to kill people.”

  
  


“You asking me if I'm going to care?”

  
  


“I guess...” Roman responded.

  
  


“Of course I'll care. I mean it's fucking shitty, killing people...It's probably going to really hurt the not shit side of me but...I can't blame you. I can't just walk away from you, either, it's kind of impossible.”

  
  


“I just need to know...” Roman said, gripping the steering wheel a little harder, staring ahead of him into the ever blurring, rain slicked road like it would answer the thousand questions he didn't even know the words to. “That you're not gonna hate me ...if it happens, because I can't...” Roman didn't finish, his sentence drifting to a slow stop. The words nonexistent but somehow the meaning was clear.

  
  


“I won't,” Peter said. His tone was convincing but also incredibly tired. “I don't know why you're so worried about this now.”

  
  


“I don't know. I feel like I'm a nervous wreck...” Roman admitted. It was true, he always felt nervous about something recently and he knew half of it had to have been psychosomatic. He was beginning to feel like he was losing his grip on reality but he didn't want to tell Peter that.

  
  


  
  


They could not have anticipated that it would be Peter who would first give into the need for blood, and it happened so soon after Roman had confessed his fear of killing. He fell asleep soon after not that the radio was not there to distract him, still sitting in the seat but he often found himself falling asleep here a lot. It was one thing he noted that he was almost constantly tired. But here he dreamed; a dream of something that in hindsight was incredibly obvious but at the same time cryptic and disturbing.

  
  


  
  


There were the typical flashes of things that were nonsensical at first. Peter had to note, in his waking hour, of all the dreams he'd had of late these were almost easier to understand. He could not be sure if these were visions of the future or just simply dreams but they seemed less clouded when he was asleep and Roman was awake. When the dust of strangeness settled there sat a wolf in the forest; presumably female and pregnant, and he could feel her pain. She bled from beneath her tail and howled, after some time expelling some slick and bloodied sack full of water and serpents. Fucking snakes, writhing all together, inside this sack of bloody water. They burst free and slithered along the ground, heading off into the trees until abruptly stopping. Instead they turned towards the mother who still lay there bleeding and entered her the way they came. Disappearing until not a one of them was left and they ate her from the inside.

  
  


  
  


She howled and whimpered until her abdomen opened, spilling out so many serpents that it was almost indistinguishable from them and her intestines which had been shredded and dragged out along with them. He rarely felt dreams but he felt this; he felt this so deeply in his soul that it began to blur between dream and reality. A fucking horrible, aching and pulling pain in his stomach like he was being eaten alive. He prayed in the back of his subconscious to wake up to stop this pain, and it happened when the blare of a horn cut through his dreams, jolting him awake suddenly.

  
  


“Fuckin' asshole...” Roman muttered, the first thing he heard other than that horn. They were still on the road and Peter had no clue how long they'd been driving or how long he'd been asleep. Despite his drowsiness Roman thought this was still an okay time to talk to him, which it was not.

  
  


“I think you sleep more than you're awake,” he commented.

  
  


“Being host to a mutant fetus tends to exhaust all my energy...” Peter mumbled, sitting up a little straighter and rubbing a hand over his face. He felt like he could still feel that phantom pain somewhere low in his abdomen. Roman looked over to him as he did so, an expression of concern written on his face.

  
  


“What?” Peter asked, his tone far more accusatory than he'd meant.

  
  


“You look seriously pale...”

  
  


“I had a really fucked up dream...Like being fucking eaten alive. I feel like it's still there,” Peter said, laying a hand over his midsection. He had no idea if this had to do with him being pale or not but the more he thought about it, really thought about the whole situation, he was beginning to think that the pain was not from the dream, but the pain is what caused the dream. He could feel it starting to ramp up again, spread through his entire abdomen and leave him with a strange gnawing hunger. “Never mind, that was real...” he hissed, leaning over slightly to try to quell the pain.

  
  


“Do you need me to stop somewhere?” Roman asked, and Peter wasn't sure what he meant until he realized how awkward Roman seemed asking about it.

  
  


“Dude, no it's just...it hurts. It's almost like I'm hungry but I'm not.”

  
  


“Fuck,” Roman said, as though a thought suddenly occurred to him. “You've been eating but you haven't been ...” He was quiet for a moment, gesticulating with one hand as the other was on the wheel, staring ahead as he spoke, “Feeding.”

  
  


“I don't feed,” Peter said, cutting himself off as an intense sharp pain cut through his abdomen. It made him double over and let out a low groan. “I mean, it's supposed to be just cravings, right?” he said against his own knees.

  
  


“This doesn't seem like just fucking cravings, you probably need this shit.” His voice was nervous now and he spoke energetically as though it would force the sheer dire need of Peter needing blood into his brain. “We don't know anything about what this kid needs, what if it's killing you?”

  
  


“What if it is?” Peter said. “What are we supposed to do if it needs blood?”

“Then you feed,” Roman said, facing him finally and punctuating his sentence with a swift tap to the steering wheel. “You have to.”

  
  


The road they were on now was mostly empty; a back road of sorts, because Roman sometimes found it easier to stick to them. He suddenly veered off to the side onto the grass, praying no one passed them because it was fairly thin and he wasn't sure they'd be able to clear them. Peter took this time to crawl into the back to curl against himself, trying to will the pain away, but he had a bad feeling that Roman was right. He felt both hungry and like something was eating his insides. Everything there ached and he felt a sickness and weakness that he couldn't quite comprehend. Roman was on the phone in seconds; he knew what he was doing the minute he pulled off and he knew the person on the other end was going to have something to say about how he wasn't supposed to be calling.

  
  


“What have I told you about calling?” Pryce said as he answered the phone.

  
  


“Shut the fuck up,” Roman said in a tone so anxious it almost made Peter feel worse.

“Something's wrong...again. I don't know what the fuck to do.”

  
  


“I will try to help any way I can but you must realize that my ability to do much from here is limited.”

  
  


“Yeah, I get that, I just...I need you to tell me what to do.”

  
  


“Then perhaps it would be best that you start but telling me exactly why it is you've called.”

  
  


“Okay, you said that kid would start making him crave blood, right?”

  
  


“I said it was a possibility.”

  
  


“Well it happened, and...he fed with me one night but it made him so sick, so we never tried it again and...” Roman was stammering now, nervous and far more afraid than he should be. At he moment he felt fucking pathetic. “Shit, he says it hurts. Like he's fucking starving now, like something's eating him.”

  
  


“When was the last time he fed?” Pryce asked, and Roman could hear in his tone the way the gears in his head were beginning to turn.

  
  


“Like..I don't know, a month or so ago.”

  
  


“Okay...” There was silence from the other end of the phone. “This may be a bigger problem than I once thought...It is not just treating him as an upir, it is treating him like a host. It is, at this point, more parasitic than a pregnancy. If the fetus requires blood as a sustenance, rather than Peter's through what I'll assume is the placenta...” He was muttering to himself now about something. “Given that the impromptu womb is connected at the other organs and sharing a blood supply...it's not unlikely that it is drawing blood away from the other organs to feed. I can't imagine how, exactly, it's doing this but it isn't being eaten, he's feeling. It's the beginnings of organ failure. If he doesn't feed it will destroy the tissue of anything it's connected to.”

  
  


“Fuck...” Roman said, breath coming out shaking. He put a hand to his mouth and tried to wrap his head around the fact that he was talking to Peter quite normally earlier and now he was literally dying in the back of the van. “Okay, so-so just tell me what to do,” he stammered.

  
  


“Give him some of the nutrient. I can only pray that his body realizes it no longer needs to destroy itself to care for the child in time.”

  
  


“The last time we fed though, it wasn't from the nutrient it was...fucking, who cares what it was but he tried to fucking kill me afterwards and then he was sick as hell the next day. If he couldn't digest this, how is he going to be able to digest that?”

  
  


“It's the only chance he has right now, Roman. Time is of the essence, and arguing with me over the phone will not help him in the least bit. How much do you have left?”

  
  


“Not a lot,”

  
  


“Okay...I will have to speak with you about this later, in a time that is far less pressing. Do not give him much, you remember what happened during your first treatment.”

  
  


“Yeah, I got it.” Roman said, hanging up the phone before Pryce had the chance to say anything more. He clambered behind the seats and brought himself quickly to his hands and knees, rooting around in the cooler and turning to face him.

  
  


“Peter...” Roman said, running a hand along his hair in an attempt to get him to look up. “I need you to listen to me.”

  
  


“I'm not drinking that shit,” Peter mumbled. “You need it more than I do-,”

  
  


“It's killing you,” Roman said desperately. “Please it's...I can't lose you. Please just fucking drink this so I don't have to bury your body on the side of the road here.”

  
  


“You remember what happened last time,” Peter said, sitting up and wincing as he did so, which only made Roman move quicker. He went to where the garbage can was still bungee corded to the seat behind him and undid it.

  
  


“I do. So we're going to do this fucking smart,” he said, moving towards him and grabbing both of his wrists. Peter did not fight him, knowing full well his plan as he used it to tightly secure it to the back of the seat. He unscrewed the cap on the large flask he'd been keeping the nutrient in. Far easier to explain flasks than a bunch of discarded body parts if anyone got nosy. He raised it to his lips, watched him grimace as he poured it into his mouth. At first, anyway.

  
  


But he soon grew used to it and seemed to crave it. He got that look in his eye again like he wanted to get free and maul Roman until he was nothing but food. But he knew Peter wouldn't be able to handle more than a bit and he just hoped that was enough. Pryce had only given him some, and he had gorged himself, mad with hunger and the need to feed but a beaker full had been enough. For a fetus he should assume it would be good for a while.

  
  


  
  


He pulled at the bindings at his wrist for a moment before staring at him with a dead stare that only spelled hunger and it terrified Roman for a moment. His irises had been swallowed by blackness, but it wasn't arousal there, it was the need to tear out his throat.

  
  


“Come on, you can't keep doing this,” Roman said, laying a hand on his calf as a way to ground him. “You can't do this shit every time I gotta feed you. If you don't come back to me I'm going to be so fucking pissed.” With that Peter suddenly jerked his body, arching his back against the seat and pulling until he looked at him with a sense of clarity and Roman knew he was back, because he looked scared now.

  
  


“Jesus fucking Christ you scared the shit out of me again.”

  
  


“Did ...did I take it?” he asked, the question a bit odd but Roman understood.

  
  


“Yeah, you did, and you wanted to eat me again,” Roman said as he undid the cord and put it back from where it came. “Does it still hurt?”

  
  


“I...no, not as much. I mean, there's an ache but...what happened? What _is_ happening with this fucking thing?”

“It needs blood, I mean it _really_ needs it, not like some stupid craving, it was literally siphoning off of you and destroying tissue and causing organ damage.”

  
  


Peter ran a hand over his face, pushing his hair back as he got to the hairline and feeling it fall back moments later. He needed to cut his hair again; he had already on the road but it was driving him nuts.

  
  


“Shit, there's not even enough for you...”

  
  


“I don't care...Dying's not a fucking option, Peter. I'm not gonna let you die just because you're afraid I might-,” he cut himself off. “You don't get to do that.”

  
  


“We have to figure something out. Those two upir girls, didn't they say they'd be in touch?”

  
  


“They did.”

  
  


“Then where the fuck are they?”

  
  


“I don't know, fuck, I don't even know how they're supposed to contact us in the first place. Would've been real fuckin' helpful if they'd given us a number. Mysterious fucking bitches...”

  
  


“Maybe it's a good thing they can't find us. Means no one else's found us either.”

  
  


“Pryce said he needs to talk to me about something when...well, he put it, the need is less dire. Maybe he'll be able to find a way to get something to us.”

  
  


“Well,” Peter said, hauling himself off the floor and crawling into the front seat, moving in a way that said he was still in some pain. “You should call him, and you should drive. I don't like being on this tiny road.”

  
  


Roman only nodded to him as he, too, climbed back into the front seat and behind the wheel, starting the ignition again and listening as it rumbled to life. He pulled off from the side and headed on. Peter, true to what he had said earlier, dozed off once again for the time being. He took this time to call Pryce back. He just hoped he had good news.

  
  


“I hope you do not call me with the news of a death.”

  
  


“It worked,” Roman said, sounding exhausted. “I think...says it aches a bit but he's feeling better.”

  
  


“There were likely be some lasting affects from this. Anemia, perhaps, and of course his organs would have suffered some damage but the chance that they recover is...fifty-fifty.”

  
  


“So this might not have done shit?”

  
  


“I cannot say for certain, because I cannot monitor him. But know that had you not given him anything he most certainly would have died. Though it would have been better had it not happened this way, you can use this information for the future and know now that blood is not simply a craving. How is he now?”

  
  


“I don't know...he's sleeping. He's always sleeping.”

  
  


“I can't imagine the kind of strain this must be putting on his body, he's likely exhausting all of his energy from carrying that child.”

  
  


“What do you have for me, Pryce? I'd like to stay off this phone as much as I can.”

  
  


“A few things...The nutrient, for one. If possible I'd like to make a drop. If you can get close enough to Hemlock Grove and contact me via payphone I may be able to set up a location. I'd like to know his reaction to the nutrient though; I may be able to alter the formula just enough for him to tolerate it. Without a proper test subject though the chances of it working are likely a shot in the dark.”

  
  


“I have a bad feeling...” Roman said looking over to the sleeping wolf next to him. “I'll level with you here. The last time we fed it was...people. Person. We've been in contact with some upirs, they gave us their kill. It made him sick the next day. He couldn't digest that, people I mean. I have a feeling this is going to be worse.”

  
  


“You need to be careful, Roman. You don't know who these people are. For all you know they could be working for The Order.”

  
  


“I thought The Order didn't like upirs.”

  
  


“It's not so much as they don't like them, that much is true, but there is a sort of mutual respect between them, unless they can't be controlled. I can't tell you how many times they came close to taking your life, Roman...”

  
  


“Thanks, Pryce. Really appreciate the whole heads up about them trying to kill me.”

  
  


“You're alive, aren't you? No matter. I have news about Spivak but I implore you to not abandon your current path. Going after him would be to dangerous right now.”

  
  


“You know where he is?” Roman asked, his voice so full of hope and excitement it was almost unlike him all together.

  
  


“Not quite...But I've finished mapping the genome. It appears he is of a race of ancient being that was once your evolutionary rival. Semi-aquatic and a sulfur based life form. I think he may somehow be getting the sense that we're getting closer to finding him, because he rather boldly attacked the lab using one of our own members. However I was able to use an experimental technology to get a glimpse of his final hours, which has given us an image of where he may have been taken. It gives us something more evidence in finding him.”

  
  


“It's something,” Roman said with relief. It wasn't much but it was certainly a step in the right direction. It was then that he remembered something he'd never once thought to bring up to Pryce. “Do you know anything about these wolves? And the attacks on upirs?”

  
  


“I've heard murmurs of a dwindling upir population, however you'll need to be more specific.”

  
  


“There's these fucked up things wandering around. I think I've seen about five of them. Like the vargulf attacks with Christina, except they're not attacking people, just what seems like werewolves....and they're covered in this gross tumor shit and they leak everywhere. Meanwhile upirs are dying and the ones who helped me before told me that they're finding more and more of them gone insane, like they're attacking their own kind. And the wolf...We found something like it in Spivak's lab. What I'm saying is...what if they're connected?” Roman had never truly thought to connect the two before but they seemed to be exhibiting such similar symptoms. Wolves who only attack werewolves, upirs who go insane and attack upirs.

  
  


“The wolves, the upirs, Spivak...Maybe if we can figure this out...what he wants, we can figure out where he's hiding,”

  
  


“It's an interesting theory...certainly one worth looking into. I've been so busy with everything at the lab I suppose I haven't taken the time to learn what's happening outside of it...I'll try to look into your theory but it's crucial that we end this call. We've already spoken too long.”

  
  


When Pryce hung up he was once again left with his thoughts, and his fear that Peter had almost lost Peter so suddenly. Surely, he probably would have not actually died that quickly but it may have left lasting damage on his organs. It still could. Roman was beginning to feel incredibly guilty every time something went wrong. If he wasn't what he was none of this would be happening. It was true that he couldn't help what he was and that feeling guilty would help no one, but Roman had done terrible things because of this affliction and now he had done something more. Had he been human this still could have happened, but now they had created something that was _never_ supposed to exist.

  
  


After some time the sun was beginning to set now and Roman was still stuck from civilization. Quite honestly, he was lost and regretting his decision to not stop in the last town he'd seen, but that seemed like hours ago. If not just for him but for Peter. He didn't look well at all; he slept fitfully and despite the car being fairly chilly he appeared to be sweating. Roman prayed it had nothing to do with actual organ failure; that he wasn't exhibiting signs of sepsis. He awoke once most of the sun was gone from the sky, very suddenly and taking in an audible breath.

  
  


“You having nightmares again or are you dying?” Roman asked, probably to best to joke about that given what had just happened.

  
  


“Neither...where the fuck are we?” he asked looking out the window.

  
  


“Bumfuck nowhere.”

  
  


“Awesome...” Peter muttered. “When's the last time you passed a town?”

  
  


“I don't know...like, a good while ago I think. Are you gonna be okay?” Roman asked. He had a good feeling now that Peter had made himself very sick off that nutrient but he wasn't going to bring it up if Peter wasn't. Of course he had made fun of him the last time but looking at him now he just felt pity. Peter truly looked very ill and he could not bring himself to laugh at him given what just transpired. It was still digging into his soul, terrifying him deep inside at the notion.

  
  


“Yeah, I'm fine,” he said, though it came out kind of defensive and nervous. Roman would keep looking for a town, even if it was just to stop briefly so they could continue on to find a motel. So Peter could at least be alone, half way, with his suffering and not stuck in a car in the middle of the fucking woods. He kept quiet though and only watched the road. Peter was making him incredibly nervous though because he was exuding an incredibly nervous energy. Staring out the window, teeth to his knuckle and leg bouncing incessantly. He would stop here if he asked, but he had to ask; Roman wasn't going to bring it up.

  
  


He said he wasn't until Peter truly looked as miserable as Roman could take him looking. So he pressed him because he knew Peter was private in these matters and probably didn't like Roman talking to him about it, so he would wait for Peter to tell him himself after he badgered him enough.

  
  


“Dude, seriously. You're not okay.”

  
  


“I'm fucking fine,” Peter snapped.

  
  


“Really? You're fine? Because I think I see a pothole up ahead and I guess you wouldn't care if I just ran right into it.”

  
  


“Why the fuck would you even do that to begin with if you weren't trying to prove a fucking point?”

  
  


“I mean it looks pretty unavoidable-,”

  
  


“Fuck you,” Peter said, leaning his head back and letting out a heavy breath. “I just want you to fucking drive. And there's not even a fucking pothole, you're full of shit.”

  
  


Roman mumbled something about not being the one that was full of shit under his breath and drove a while longer until he could find a half decent place to turn off into the part of the woods that was big enough for him to get the van into. Peter looked at him incredulously, making a broad gesticulation at him before speaking. “The fuck are you doing?”

  
  


“Fucking go,” Roman said, reaching behind him and grabbing a roll of toilet paper before throwing it at him with enough irritation in the movement to fuel a small fire. “Like, literally. Get the fuck out. You're driving me crazy.”

  
  


Peter relented with some note of irritation, but a knowing that he had been beaten and that Roman was right. He roughly pushed open the car door and Roman watched him leave; well, he didn't go far. He disappeared off to the side and Roman assumed he was either behind or next to the van. Something had to be done about this. He couldn't make Peter sick every time he needed to feed. Surely this couldn't be good for him. He felt guilty for treating him like this, too. He was only doing what he needed to but Roman realized he hadn't been exactly nice. It would have maybe been okay on any other day. He supposed that maybe it wasn't okay every other day but in their relationship this kind of behavior was just how they treated each other. It was normal; that was how the world worked between them. Being mean wasn't truly being mean, it was just their behavior.

  
  


  
  


It always worried Roman when he didn't know exactly where Peter was because so much could happen. He could be killed by one of those freak vargulfs, or taken by The Order. He could also be just fine aside from the obvious intestinal distress he'd caused himself but he was about two seconds from jumping out of the car to go find him. He knew, however, that he would likely find him where he'd left him and get verbally beaten for not respecting his privacy. As though in cue the back door opened and Peter flung himself onto the makeshift bed with very little grace.

  
  


“Do you feel any better?” Roman asked, turning to look at him. But he already knew what the answer was just by looking at him.

  
  


“No,” Peter mumbled. “I feel like I just got training for what it feels like to give birth...cramping wise, I mean.”

  
  


  
  


Roman climbed over his seat and into the back to sit next to him, turning on the light above them so he could see. Peter flinched at it momentarily and turned his head, squinting and covering the area above his eyes with his arm.

  
  


“Are you sure this isn't something more?”

  
  


“Yes, Roman...I have reference for this from being around for nineteen or so years and having my fair share of food poisoning...and this is like, the _worst_ food poisoning. So much worse than last time.”

  
  


“It made me sick the first few times I drank some...I only threw up though. But shit, you're not supposed to drink this at all.”

  
  


“But apparently I have to,” Peter muttered. “And we're running out fast enough as it is.”

  
  


“Pryce is trying to find a way to get us some more, and maybe alter the formula if something like this happened...No promises though.”

  
  


“We have to plan this a lot better. The next time I need to feed we don't do it in the fucking car.”

  
  


“You know, you could have seriously just asked me to stop and I would have.”

  
  


“Contrary to popular belief, I am a person and don't like shitting my guts out in the middle of the woods.”

  
  


Roman let out a short snort of a laugh and absentmindedly brushed away a strand of hair that was sticking to the sweat of Peter's forehead. He felt that dead heart of his skip a beat when Peter leaned in towards his hand, absentmindedly with a low sigh of content as he stared at the back of his eyelids. So Roman continued combing his fingers through that one spot of hair because somehow Peter enjoyed it.

  
  


“So you'd rather just shit yourself.”

  
  


“I wasn't going to,” Peter defended.

  
  


“Somehow I'm not feeling confident about that.”

  
  


“How about you shut up about it?” Peter asked, opening his eyes long enough to glare at him.

  
  


“Okay...I'll shut up about it if you can tell me how you feel now because that's going to determine whatever I do next.”

  
  


“Like shit.”

  
  


“Wow, you could be a little less descriptive.”

  
  


This earned an annoyed groan from Peter who rolled his eyes at him and spoke.

“Like shit. I'm fucking hot, my stomach hurts, I feel like I'm going to throw up constantly. I feel like I'm constantly on the verge of shitting out my own soul, are you fucking satisfied?”

Roman laughed at this and he was soon made aware that Peter didn't find it nearly as funny.

“Hilarious imagery aside, I'm not moving from this spot tonight. It's dark, I'm lost as fuck, I've got hardly any service and I don't want to have to stop again.”

  
  


“I'm too exhausted to argue with you,” Peter mumbled, rolling over on his side and pushing the blanket between his legs and against his stomach. Roman finally laid down next to him but avoided actually looking at him for the time being.

  
  


“You really scared the shit out of me,” he said, throwing his arm above his head and toying with the frayed fringe on the edge of the sheet. “I mean earlier. How the fuck do things to from fine to life and death? It freaks me out so much that there's just still so much we don't know about this and I'm not sure we ever will.”

  
  


“I'm still alive, though.”

  
  


“Alive, but probably with lasting organ damage because...shit, my fucking mother. She's such a controlling cunt she's got to send a fucking hit out on us. If we were still back in Hemlock Grove we could have seen this coming.” Roman said, letting out a heavy breath and staring at the ceiling tiredly. “Shit, honestly none of this would've happened period if I'd just worn a condom.”

  
  


“It's safe to say that neither of us anticipated this happening...It's fucking scary. I'll admit, it scares the shit out of me, but I can't just be scared. Whatever happens is going to happen and I can't change that no matter how much it freaks me out.”

  
  


Roman was about to reply when there was a very sudden screeching noise off in the distance. For a moment he thought it may have been a fox until he realized it was human, and that it wasn't screeching, it was crying. He could hear incoherent speech that sounded like someone was in trouble. He knew going out there to help would only bring misfortune and that he should leave it alone. He was not in this fight and they were out in the middle of the woods, hearing a fight. It should be left alone. And yet Peter looked at him in a way that told him if he didn't go out there and figure out what was happening he was going to. With just that look he conveyed so much to him and Roman knew it was best to do as Peter so non verbally asked and go check it out. He took the gun with him that frequently jammed up on him but it was better than no weapon at all.

  
  


  
  


As he headed off into the forest he could hear the arguing getting more and more coherent. In the dying light he could see now two people standing there; a naked woman with pale skin, her hair messy with several strands of grey and silver running through it. The most noticeable of things were the wounds though. All over her body; cracks that ran deep and bloody along her flesh. She stood in front of a woman who was probably not well enough dressed for this weather, wearing ripped jeans, a tank top, and a very baggy flannel.

  
  


“Annie please, we can fix this!” the only one dressed was yelling, to the one who Roman assumed was named Annie. “You don't have to be this-we'll find something. Just come back inside, please!” she sobbed.

  
  


“I'm done, Max...” she rasped. “I'm done. You know there's no coming back from this. Go back inside, you know what happens when this is over.”

  
  


“There's-...There's the basement and we can ...we can figure this out, put you down there until we find a cure.”

  
  


“No, Max! I don't want this...I would rather be mindless than feel this way. I'm so tired...and I'm on fire inside. I want this to be over even if it means I have to live out my life as something else, or to die. You can let me do this or you can kill me.”

  
  


“Annie...please.”

  
  


“There's not much time, Max. I can feel it coming...You have to go.”

  
  


“I won't. You'll have to kill me first before I leave you.”

  
  


  
  


Annie let out a sort of shuddering, sobbing breath and fell to her knees, and Roman watched as the skin fell from her bones like liquid and white fur replaced it. Fur and rotting skin; the wolves. This is how they turned, this is what they were. It was proof now that the wolves were vargulves of some kind. The now mindless beast growled at her and was seconds from charging. Roman had to act fast.

  
  


“Annie..It's me, please, it's me!”

  
  


He didn't think, he just fired. It was a miracle the gun went off at all, and even more of a miracle that it went into the side of its skull. What was once this girl named Annie squealed in pain and fell to the ground. She was dead for the time being at least, and the girl named Max turned to him and screamed angrily.

  
  


“What did you do?!” she yelled, rushing towards him in long strides before she reached him and gripped him by the lapels of his jacket. “You killed her!” she screamed, and she hit his chest but it felt like nothing to him.

  
  


“She was going to fucking kill you!” Roman defended.

  
  


“You killed her, she could've been saved, I could have saved her!”

  
  


“Max!” Came a completely different voice from further in the woods. Roman watched as a woman with fiery red hair, a pair of shorts, a tank top and a sweater came running from the woods. Wherever these people were coming from it was clearly much warmer there than it was out here. She ran to the both of them and pulled the girl away from him.

  
  


“He killed her, Claire! He killed my sister!” she sobbed, and she fell to her knees where the girl named Claire joined her, holding her as she sobbed.

  
  


“Then he probably did her a favor,” Claire said soothingly.

  
  


“He's a fucking upir, he doesn't do any favors!”

  
  


“That's generalizing,” Claire said, letting out a sigh. She looked up at him and spoke. It took Roman a moment to realize she was speaking to him because he felt like he'd just stepped into the twilight zone. Into the lives and problems of some completely different group who he didn't know. He was an outlier in their lives; a stranger who had just killed their kin because he was trying to do the right thing. But she was definitely speaking. “Where did you come from?”

  
  


“I..” Roman stammered, gesturing off into the distance as he tried to reply. “My...friend, he's sick and I'm fucking lost...it's getting too dark to find my way out so we're just staying there for the night.”

  
  


“He's sick?” she asked, her breathing a little heavy from the running. “It's freezing out. You can't stay out there in..whatever the fuck you're staying in.”

  
  


“I can't...” Roman said, “I don't know you and,-”

  
  


“Don't bring him into that house, Claire!” Max screamed, and Claire only hushed her.

  
  


“She's inconsolable and rightfully so but she's not thinking straight. I can't in good conscious leave you out here with someone ill after you technically did just save her life.”

  
  


“I could have just died,” Max sobbed.

  
  


“Look, I don't know you and I don't know if you're just baiting me into a trap, and I-,”

  
  


“Please. Come stay with us, just for now, alright? You can leave in the morning. You can leave right away if you don't feel safe.”

  
  


Roman made an indignant huffing noise and made a gesture towards where the van was with his neck and headed off. He watched as Claire took out her phone and made a quick phone call, telling whoever was on the other end to come get Max and what was now a corpse. She was laying there now, as a person once again with her eyes clouded over. They were white but beneath the cataracts Roman could see that her sclera was red and her iris had turned a sickly yellow.

  
  


“You're going to just leave her back there?” Roman asked, and Claire made a noise that signified uncertainty. “She won't be alone for long. So your friend...he's another upir?” she asked.

  
  


“Would it matter if he was?”

  
  


“You can see that Max doesn't trust your kind, and neither do the rest of them. I don't either but..you saved her and I have to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

  
  


“Did you know this was going to happen?”

  
  


“We knew Annie had the sickness after she got bitten. She's been so sick for a long time now but Max just couldn't let her go.”

  
  


“It's transmitted through biting?”

  
  


“We think...I don't know, these things...they leak. We don't know if it was the bite or the fluid that got into her mouth and her wounds that did it.”

  
  


When they got back to the van Roman opened the side door to find that he'd startled Peter who looked at the two of them like a deer in the headlights.

  
  


“What the fuck is this, Roman?” he asked, sitting up slightly further than he was.

  
  


“Long story, but they've offered to let us stay with them.”

  
  


“And you think that's smart?”

  
  


“Your friend saved our friend's life.” Claire said, “And I think the rest of them will have no problem inviting one of our own into the...pack,” she said, though she stalled on the last part as though it sounded stupid to her.

  
  


“Roman I swear to God you can be so dumb sometimes..” Peter mumbled.

  
  


“Hey, fuck you. I promise you, if shit goes sideways I'll get you out of there, alright?”

  
  


“Fine...Beats getting stuck out in this van all night.”

  
  


“Good then. There's only a foot path from here but your van should be safe. No one comes down this road anyway. Are you okay to walk?” Claire asked, and Peter nodded although it seemed he was almost a little uncertain in that. “Then we better be going.”

  
  


  _ **ART**_

 

_**Annie:** _

 

_**** _

 

_**** _

 

_**Max:** _

 

_**** _

_**Claire:** _

_**** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this seems rushed. I had to get the last part done pretty quickly ): 
> 
> Also like you will see in the next chapter Claire has a wolf with her. It's not literal, it's just what herx wolf form looks like. 
> 
> Max and the rest of what I'm calling 'The Wolf Pack' were not done at the same time. Max was done very recently after I replaced her with another character who I found I didn't like quite as much, so I didn't have time to do her wolf. But it's just black.


	9. Girls Will Be Girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh so like, sometimes I think I go overboard on descriptions, this is one of those times.
> 
> Also, sometimes I like to slip references to other things I watch in very vaguely to amuse myself so if you catch them it's probably intentional. 
> 
> And stay tuned for the art at the end for pics of the rest of The Wolf Pack

The trek to the house seemed endless through the bitter cold of the wind. Claire was shivering slightly as well and it seemed as though she definitely did not intend to stay out this long. Had Peter known how Claire was acting he might not have agreed to go, but Roman found it sort of odd that she so easily brushed off Annie's death. But maybe it wasn't suspicious at all, maybe it was just how she operated. But Roman couldn't help but bring up the subject.

  
  


“Claire, was it? How is it you're so calm about me killing one of your own?” There was suspicion in his tone and he was making sure that Claire knew it. Making sure that he still didn't trust her and she was going to have to prove herself.

  
  


Peter was about to question Roman before Claire let out a sigh and spoke.

  
  


“Annie was sick. She'd begged us to kill her so many times in private but we just...couldn't do that to Max. She'd never forgive us and things would never be the same. I don't know how much she'll forgive us for inviting you into our home either, but you don't know Max. You don't have to live with the guilt of killing her sister. Believe me, it is a good thing you killed her because she would have killed Max and lived out the rest of her days in agony.

  
  


The reason I left Max back there, which I'm sure is your next question, is because I think that seeing the person who killed her sister probably made things worse but...I'm hoping she'll have some time to adjust after Kate came to get her.”

  
  


“How many of there are you?”

  
  


“Seven including me...No, six now.”

  
  


“What the fuck did you manage to do in the five minutes you were gone?” Peter asked in a hushed tone.

  
  


“Save a life, commit murder...”

  
  


“So the usual,”

  
  


When they finally reached the house Roman thought it may have been one of the most bizarrely constructed homes he'd ever seen. There were about half a dozen columns and balconies, with doors in somewhat bizarre places and half of the shades drawn. It was covered in crawling ivy that contrasted with the beige and white color scheme.

  
  


“Paige's dad,” Claire said suddenly. “Real flair for weird fucking houses. I saw you looking.”

  
  


“Paige?”

  
  


“She owns the house. Her dad left it to her in the will.” Claire said as she stepped up to what appeared to be the main entrance hall despite a set of french doors on the side of the house. She turned to them before she entered to give a warning.

  
  


“The others may not treat you _quite_ as warmly as I have... But I'll try to get them to see reason.”

“You're on your own as soon as we get in there,” Peter said quietly.

  
  


“What? Why?”

  
  


“Because I fucking said,” he hissed out.

  
  


  
  


And Peter was not lying, because the minute they got inside he asked for directions to the bathroom and left him stranded there as he headed somewhere off into the house. Roman really hoped that he wasn't walking into a trap but he couldn't exactly blame him. It was still just him and Claire for the moment as she'd taken no steps to introduce him to the rest of the house yet and they were standing there in the middle of the entry hall. She took the time alone to ask him some questions.

  
  


“Your friend...he hasn't been attacked, has he?” she asked with concern in her voice. “I'm worried he might have the sickness.”

  
  


“No,” Roman said with a sigh, “He's been fine up until a few hours ago.”

  
  


“He looks pretty sick...Do you have any idea what he's come down with?”

  
  


Roman stalled for a moment, not even sure how to _begin_ to explain what was happening with him.

  
  


“He, uh...” Is possibly experiencing after effects of near organ failure? Can't properly digest shit he's not supposed to even have in his body? “He has food poisoning. Sort of.”

  
  


She gave him a look that said she didn't quite believe his story but decided to drop it there. She made a gesture to follow her and the two of them headed down the hallway and into what Roman felt was not so much different than a vipers nest.

  
  


He was face to face with what seemed to be the strangest, rag-tag crew of people he'd ever seen and was being stared down like he was a cobra in a den full of mongoose. Max was sitting on the couch wrapped in the arms of a woman he'd not yet seen. She looked up at him but her eyes seemed dead and tired like she'd been given something to tranquilize her. The woman who's arms she rested in looked like the epitome of a flower child. She was vaguely dark skinned and freckled with dark eyes and dark brown hair worn in braids and ponytails. The darkness around her face seemed to offset the deep goldish red of her lips and the golden nosering. She wore a long flowy shirt intercepted with golden rings connecting the sleeves to the main shirt, decorated with pale brown and purple flowers. A dark brown, frayed skirt both offset and somehow complimented the rest of the outfit. She wore wooden beads around her neck, and on her hands and feet were henna tattoos. She had a sense of calm about her that seemed to emanate from her like waves and she kept running her hand along Max's arm and shoulder while her head laid against her rather large bosom.

  
  


  
  


Sitting next to her was a pale skinned boy with hair nearly as red as Claire's, covered in large freckles and acne and an almost frightened looking pale green gaze. Other than that he was unremarkable and wore a pair of black baggy jeans, a t-shirt with some vague design, and a green knit sweater. Not unlike the woman next to him he wore a necklace with wooden beads and twine but they seemed to hold a different significance.

  
  


  
  


Across from the both of them in a large armchair sat a woman who Roman might describe as dramatically Gothic. Hair pulled up into a loose, brown bun that dangled above dark eyes that he might describe as somewhat shifty and decorated with a pale, silvery eye-shadow. Her cheeks were rouged and her lips a somewhat dull red, thick and placed upon a wineglass full of red wine. She grasped it in the fingers of which were tipped with long black nails, to go with the rest of her attire. A short black dress that clung to her thin figure, with a loose lace and net shirt of some sort that contrasted in the way that it hung off of her. Her legs were dressed in a pair of somewhat ripped lace stockings and of all the people, Roman noticed she wore shoes. A sort of shrugging black boot. To complete the ensemble was an elaborate metal choker clasped tightly around her neck. She regarded him with suspicion.

  
  


  
  


But of perhaps the most intimidating people in the room, it would have to be the one who was standing. There was an air of confidence about her that was staggering and she was stunningly gorgeous. She had dark hair that cascaded down her back, blue eyes complimented by shimmering blue eye-shadow, and a ruby red, gloss slicked pout, or maybe it was more of a sneer. Her neck was decorated in chains, pearls and ropes with various charms on the ends of them, not unlike the bracelets she wore on both wrists. Her nails were like tipped daggers, shimmering with some kind of bizarre iridescent design that was slightly off-putting in contrast to the fact that she wore mostly black and white. A black shrug sweater and a black and white shirt of some kind of lacy material. Where her midsection was was a very sheer white fabric. The shirt could barely be considered a shirt at this point, because her breasts were barely contained by it even with the black bra underneath. Daring to wear a black bra and white shirt but the lace was so thick in the front it covered it. Her legs were dressed in leather leggings, ending with a pair of white high heeled pumps. She looked like the kind of person who lived lavishly but had an incredibly wild and dangerous streak to her. The look she was giving him was not at all friendly.

Claire went about introducing them in an incredibly simplistic manner, starting first with the woman holding Max. “Kate.” The woman gave him a brief nod.

  
  


“Dustin, my brother,” the boy with the fearful gaze.

  
  


“Lorelei,” for the girl with the glass of wine.

  
  


“Paige,” for the woman who gave him such death glares he wouldn't dare look at the tits that so greatly spilled from her top.

  
  


“...Max,” she said finally, gesturing to that who he already knew. She turned to him in thought for a moment, squinting slightly before speaking in an uncertain tone, “Roman..? I think?” This earned her a nod.

  
  


“Yeah, so this is Roman...he saved Max, and his friend is sick, but like us.”

  
  


“Funny,” Paige said as she straightened out and seemed to look down on him even though he was several inches taller. “An upir and a werewolf friends...It's almost unbelievable. Are you sure he hasn't inflicted this sickness somehow?”

  
  


“I couldn't just let them sleep in the cold, Paige...I know that you don't trust them but can't you just this once?”

  
  


“Your friend...” Lorelei said, and her accent spelled that she was not from this country but Roman could not identify where from. “The one with the...the little,” she gesticulated to get her mind working again. “Bun?”

  
  


“I...what?” Roman asked, finding that perhaps she didn't know English very well and maybe whatever she was trying to say was lost on him.

  
  


“Bun in the oven?”

  
  


Once again Roman was hoping things had been lost in translation and the phrase 'bun in the oven' was usually pretty straight forward here. He was pretty sure she wasn't referring to baking but how would she have known about this?

  
  


“He's a boy...” Claire said with confusion.

  
  


“Does not matter,” Lorelei said, taking another sip from her wine. “In this life you will learn that there are acceptations to the rule.”

  
  


“How would you know something like that?” Roman asked, fear starting to well up in his stomach because no one was supposed to know this outside who already did. _No one._

  
  


“I know things,” she said, pointing one sharp nail towards her temple. She took another drink, swallowed and spoke again, “I drink and I know things.”

  
  


“She's psychic...and she says drinking helps to bring about her powers but I think she just likes to get drunk. Can something like that even happen?” Claire asked.

  
  


“It is about fifty-fifty,” Lorelei said, her voice a bit of a drone. “But what I say is truth. You cannot from this hide me. They are also not _friends._ ”

  
  


“Okay, hold on!” Roman said suddenly, “That last part isn't true. We are just _friends._ Nothing more.”

  
  


“Whatever you say,” she said with a soft laugh.

  
  


“Wait,” Claire said, “She's right?”

  
  


Had he defended the former argument maybe he would have been able to say that Lorelei was lying, but he had a psychic there telling him shit that he knew was true and they probably would believe her over him any day. Fucking psychics. Still he hesitated before he spoke, running a hand along the lower part of his face as a nervous habit.

  
  


“No one was supposed to know, that's why we're out here in the middle of fucking nowhere, trying to run away from the people who want us dead for it.” Probably not the best thing to mention, considering he still didn't know them and they could be working for the order for all he knew. But if they were, they already knew who they were and they'd already walked into their trap. Would it make a difference at this point confessing?

  
  


“How do you fit into this?” Paige asked, her tone still conveying she had a hatred of his kind but it seemed she was almost beginning to warm up to him given the current circumstances. “Just a friend selflessly toting around a mutation of nature itself?”

  
  


“It is his,” Lorelei said before Roman even got the chance to say anything.

  
  


“You fucking psychics...” he mumbled. “Which is why people want us dead, and why we can't trust people so easily. For all I know you could've been working for _them_.”

  
  


“So they want you dead for...” Paige said, gesturing for him to continue.

  
  


“For making a kid that's half upir and half werewolf. Totally fucking unpredictable. It's already causing enough trouble before it's even born, who the fuck knows what's going to happen when it is?”

  
  


“But it's a child...” Kate suddenly said, and he had forgotten she was there as she had been so silent. “How could a child cause harm just by being born?”

  
  


“You would be surprised.” He knew about Nadia and what she had done. He'd seen it first hand, but that had been manipulation by way of experimental gene bullshit and Miranda. He was not going to tell them this, though. He would not tell him how his daughter could melt a person's brain in their skull and how she'd been kidnapped by a fucking flying lizard.

  
  


“So where is this...this friend of yours, anyway? All this discussion and I haven't seen him once.” Paige asked.

  
  


“I'm assuming in the bathroom still unless he ran off...he's pretty good at that.”

  
  


“Fuck you,” Peter said suddenly appearing from the hallway next to living room. “Do I have to worry about you talking shit every time I leave the room?”

  
  


“Oh my God...” Paige said softly under her breath, “He's so cute.”

  
  


“And so thin,” Lorelei said. This earned a confused look from Peter to which Roman responded before he could ask.

  
  


“They know...Everything. Well, most things. It's not my fault this time I swear, she's a fucking psychic.”

  
  


“Fuck...” he sighed out nervously, prompting Roman to try to remind him of the best of the situation.

  
  


“It could be a lot worse. It could've been a trap,” he said quietly so that only Peter could hear him.

  
  


“Yeah but we just put these people in danger now. What happens when they come looking for me and start figuring out where I've been? Then they start asking questions, which leads them to an entire den of wolves to murder.”

  
  


“I don't think that's going to happen... Chasseur had enough trouble trying to pin you down and that was in one town.”

  
  


“We can handle ourselves if that happens,” Lorelei said.

  
  


“Are you psychic and a super sonic hearer?” Roman asked.

  
  


“No, you two are just not as quiet as you think.”

  
  


“We never got your name,” Paige said as she ventured closer.

  
  


“Peter...” he said, hesitantly though in the way that maybe it was better if they didn't know his name.

  
  


“Sit down,” Paige said pleadingly and she all but forced him to sit on the empty couch despite the fact that the hand he felt on his arm was little more but a gentle guide. Before he knew it there were women flanking either side of him, who introduced themselves to him as Paige and Lorelei, and a woman named Kate who held the sleeping girl Max in her arms but did all she could to lean as close as possible without actually moving. They descended on him like vultures to carrion and his strange condition was like a dead bison that they were incredibly interested in.

  
  


“Can I get you anything?” Paige asked, and had no time to even have been answered before Kate was speaking to him.

  
  


“Have you picked out a name yet? Ooh! do you know what it is!?” she asked excitedly.

  
  


“How far along you are?” Lorelei asked, and Peter knew from her accent her English was probably not great but he had to assume she was asking how far along he was.

  
  


“I...don't know either of those things,” he said, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer cloud of maternal instinct that was oozing out of these women for a baby that was not even theirs. He supposed for some women this was normal. However Claire was still standing over by Roman who Peter was looking to as though he were begging for a lifebuoy to rescue him from this sea of estrogen. He wasn't feeling up to this at all and still felt incredibly ill and would rather sleep his way through this intense bout of intestinal upset than be awake and barraged with questions.

  
  


He would say he was grateful that there was another male in the room but he seemed to suddenly make himself scarce out of all the commotion going on. He decided to fuel their curiosity the best he could though and give them something.

  
  


“I don't think I'll ever get to know the gender beforehand...We don't have time to worry about that kind of thing.”

  
  


“You don't know how many months you are...?” Kate asked curiously.

  
  


“Almost three, I think...by regular standards but the one ultrasound I got said that it was growing way ahead of schedule. At least by two weeks. It's kind of hard to track the months as it is...and the days.”

  
  


“We're on the road almost constantly,” Roman interjected. “Shit starts blurring together. After a while you forget what day it is, then what month, and every single town starts to look the same and you're not sure if you're been there or not.”

  
  


“That can't be good for either of you,” Claire said with a sense of worry in her voice.

  
  


“It isn't, but it's better than death,” Peter said.

  
  


“Well you must be exhausted,” Paige said, “If you want we can find you a bed, and maybe we can find a spot for your...companion.”

  
  


“Uh, it's fine...We end up sleeping together anyway on the road.” Peter hated to admit it but he had grown so accustomed to sleeping with him that being alone would seem incredibly lonely, and though by nature Peter was solitary he still craved the warmth of companionship.

  
  


“Are you sure?” Paige asked.

  
  


“I'm sure.”

  
  


“We'll let you get situated then,” she said as she stood and lead the two of them upstairs. It was a somewhat spacious room with a double bed and an attached bathroom. Paige left the two of them almost begrudgingly but the minute she was alone Roman did not hesitate to say what he thought of her.

  
  


“I appreciate that she's letting us stay and all but the way she treats you and the way she treats me are like night and day. I might as well be a home invader to her.”

  
  


“I wish she wouldn't treat me this way. I hate talking about this shit and I get mobbed by a bunch of girls asking about babies.”

  
  


“Girls will be girls, I guess.”

  
  


Peter mumbled something under his breath, though it seemed more like an expression if general annoyance and stripped down to his boxers to crawl into bed. Usually he wore a t-shirt at least but everything had been left in the van. He hoped that Claire was right in the way that no one ever went that way and that their van wouldn't be ransacked by the time they got back. But he had to admit he enjoyed this. A home, not a hotel or a motel. Something that seemed lived in and not just a stop for about a hundred different people.

  
  


Roman did the same and turned the light off before joining him. There was a long and uncomfortable silence before he decided to speak. Ever the one to run his mouth about this kind of shit when he shouldn't.

  
  


“You didn't have to share a room with me.” This was met with a long silence and Roman thought he'd either fallen asleep or was ignoring him but he finally did respond.

  
  


“At this point it's just habitual...and I don't feel like changing that right now. I might not be able to sleep if I do.”

  
  


“You're not missing any beauty sleep...Kind of freaks me out actually. You're asleep more than you're awake. After what happened, what if it's because this thing is...slowly killing you?”

  
  


“Roman...I'm fine. Growing babies takes a shit ton of energy. This one is not normal in the least bit. It's growing faster, so my body has to cope with that. I'm pretty sure that is priority number one in there and everything else is just secondary. What the fuck else am I supposed to do though? I'd rather be asleep in a car than knowingly be awake in it, stuck there and getting stir crazy. You worry too much.”

  
  


“I don't think you worry enough.”

  
  


  
  


Peter let out a small string of mumbled insults in his direction and turned to face him. Roman was on his side and Peter managed to wedge himself against his body, into his arms by using the sheer force of the movement of his body to adjust Roman's, because if Roman didn't move he was going to get squished and Peter knew this. This was always incredibly bizarre to him. Peter had been doing this off and on, even while awake, since the night of the last full moon. He'd given his explanation so Roman technically knew why Peter _said_ he was doing it but it made him a little nervous. It was hard to relax, find a place to put his hands that felt stiff and uncertain until he found a place. He was afraid of sweet nothings slipping out one day when they laid like this. He knew it would freak Peter out, but Roman was beginning to find this entire situation suspicious to begin with.

  
  


  
  


Even with Peter's excuse this was not something friends did. Then again, most friends did not knock up the other friend and go on an excursion that consisted mostly of trying not to get murdered. There was an outlier here that made this situation difficult and different in a way that maybe, given such strange circumstances, this would be what friends would do. But Roman couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't. He just _knew,_ and even with how much Peter seemed to dissuade Roman from catching feelings for him, to let him know just how much he felt that they were friends and nothing more, this was not right. Roman didn't know what the inside of Peter's mind was like but he was beginning to think that he had no idea what he wanted. That if he did at all have feelings for him he might not even be aware of it.

  
  


But Roman abandoned these thoughts. If he held too tightly to them he would only be more ashamed and upset to find that what he held onto was never really there in the first place. With every passing day this only served to eat him further, no matter what he did. It was almost a cancerous thing. Something that should be good but it was blackened and tainted; tainting everything with anxiety and fear. Roman could never truly lose this tainted beast that ate his insides until he knew for sure, but until then guesses only served to create doubt, which only served to feed this thing that was ingrained in every single fiber of his being. He feared that at the end of this all he may not have anything good left in him. A shell of what he once was, filled with longing and hurt instead of the already damaged soul he now had.

 

 

_**Art, in order of appearance:** _

 

_**The House:** _

 

_**Kate:** _

 

_**** _

 

 

_**Dustin:** _

 

_**** _

 

 

_**Lorelei:** _

 

_**** _

 

 

 

_**Paige:** _

 

_**** _

 


	10. Hold Me Tight (Or Don't)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have some of my math wrong, or know how ultrasounds work, but bare with me please thanks   
> also I wrote the end of this while I was half asleep so if it seems weird that's why.

Roman's night of sleep had been incredibly unpleasant that night, what little he did get, with Peter constantly waking him up to leave and come back. He had at first abandoned his quest of being close to him but instead did it in his sleep, which would again wake Roman up. The final time he was awoken was possibly the most unpleasant yet because his awakening came in the form of being violently headbutted in the face. He let out a sudden pained groan which woke Peter up, who had been lying with his back to him and had evidently jerked back mid sleep and bludgeoned his nose.

  
  


“Oh shit,” Peter said groggily, but after a few seconds of watching Roman hold his nose which was threatening to start bleeding at any moment, he couldn't help but devolve into laughing at him. “Fuck, I'm sorry. What are the chances?”

  
  


“You kept me awake all night you asshole,” Roman said, pulling his hand away and swiping it under his nose to catch the smear of blood that marred the skin of his hand now. It wasn't bleeding badly but it was still bleeding some. But Peter was about to get his comeuppances for laughing at him when seconds later he experienced a much more sudden and violent nose bleed.

  
  


“What the _fuck_!” Peter said, trying to stop the blood from getting everywhere but a fair bit of it dripped onto the sheets and kind of resembled the splatter of someone getting shot. He rushed into the bathroom and managed to avoid leaving a trail on the carpet but the tile was not so lucky, nor was the sink.

  
  


Roman should be more worried than he was but he remembered Letha getting random nosebleeds during pregnancy more than she ever had before. He had to imagine Peter was experiencing something similar. He pulled on what he'd taken off the night before and gathered the sheets from the bed, and what had become of part of the blanket, to head downstairs to try to find a way to get them clean.

  
  


“Are you going to be okay in there?” he called out to him.

  
  


“I'm fine just...go, I'll probably get in the shower after this anyway. Nosebleeds aren't going to kill me.”

  
  


Roman had no idea what time it was other than it was fairly light out and so he had to assume other people were awake enough to tell him where the washing machine was. He ended up lost in this bizarre maze of hallways and at the front of the house, from which behind the stairs was a kitchen. Claire peeked around the corner from it in confusion to which the only thing Roman responded with was, “There's blood on these.”

  
  


“Okay...that's normal, I guess,” she said sarcastically as she ventured into the hallway to grab the sheets.

  
  


“It was just a nosebleed.”

  
  


She nodded and turned into a door just past the kitchen, emerging a minute later in front of the whirring of what was probably a washing machine.

  
  


“You want some of this leftover bacon?”

  
  


“I'm good, it doesn't do much for me...You got a cigarette, though?” he asked. He'd left his foolishly in the van. She fished a pack out of her sweater pocket and tossed them to him with a lighter, grabbing an ashtray from the counter and putting it on the table seconds later. “Thanks...”

  
  


He sat down at the chair Claire motioned to and lit up, breathing in once before exhaling heavily, letting the words he spoke drift along with the smoke. “How's Max?”

  
  


“Drugged,” Claire said as she took a seat across from him. “It's...probably not the best method but she just cries when she's not.”

  
  


“No judgment,” Roman said flicking the ash into the tray, but doing it a bit more so than he intended with the way he somewhat nervously moved his fingers. “I think I'll get out of here when Peter gets down here. Maybe then you won't have to worry about Max so much, and your friends _really_ don't like me.”

  
  


“What? No, you don't have to leave so soon. It's safe here and...it's just Paige, honestly. Kate loves everyone, Lorelei is just indifferent, Dustin doesn't like people in general and Paige...Paige is kinda like a high school clique. She's got people in her circle and she decides who's in and who's out and it's very easy to _not_ be in her circle. Especially if you're an upir.”

  
  


“But it's her house. I just don't think I should stay if she's going to be giving death glares the entire time.”

“What about Peter?” Claire asked desperately.

  
  


“What about him?”

  
  


“He's sick, isn't he?”

  
  


“I think he's probably pretty much over what he had last night...”

  
  


“But that's not all it is, is it?”

  
  


“Did Lorelei tell you something after I left?”

  
  


“She didn't have to, but yes. She says she can just tell something else has happened.”

  
  


“So...how exactly does Lorelei know this stuff? What _does_ she know? Can she see the future, the past...”

  
  


“She just knows. She knows things about people when they walk in and can get a sense for what has happened, what is happening, but not what will happen. But it's sometimes fuzzy. All she can sense is a kind of...wrongness. A problem that occurred that maybe you didn't anticipate.”

  
  


“He's okay now though...I think.”

  
  


“Do you really want to gamble on that? What happened to him?”

  
  


Roman took in a deep drag from his cigarette in an attempt to not speak, and to calm his nerves. He was really debating speaking to her about what had happened. But she would not stop asking, he knew, until he gave her something. He exhaled and set the cigarette down to let it burn for a minute, breathing in somewhat shakily and setting his gaze on the burning cherry.

  
  


“He almost died...yesterday, and we didn't even see it coming. Because that kid is not normal, and it was eating him from the inside. Stealing all the blood from the rest of his organs, and they started failing. So I had to give him blood. I have this sort of...storage cooler, but we're running out and...” He noticed a sort of dampness in his eyes and wiped it away before she could tell, but his next breath was ragged enough to be telling. “I don't know how the fuck we're going to get anymore. I don't know I can feed him and me at the same time...The shit I've got is like...formulated to make me go for long distances without feeding. But he can't process it at all which is how he ended up getting sick.”

  
  


“I'm guessing it's not as simple as a milk run,” Claire said with a frown.

  
  


“No it's... I have contacts with someone who makes it. But they're in another town and it's too dangerous to talk to them because someone might be tracking my phone, or his phone. He told me to use a payphone when I got close enough and he'd make a drop but even that seems dangerous. It'd be like sitting ducks.”

  
  


“If you stayed for a bit longer they could bring it here, couldn't they?”

  
  


“That's a really stupid idea. That's like asking someone to come assassinate us and everyone in this house.”

  
  


“It's really hard to find this house if you don't know the way here. There is parking in the back that goes out to the main road but it's through about a hundred different little roads. We could go into town and make the call, come back here and when they get close enough go find them to lead them back.”

  
  


“Maybe but...I'd feel nervous even giving him a place to meet.”

  
  


“We can scope the place out first, make sure no one's following us. If they are, I don't know...we split. Then we can figure out a way to meet up with them...him later.”

  
  


“I'm not entirely sure who'd actually be coming but if might just be easier if I just grab the shit and run.”

  
  


“You can...but it'd be better to leave Peter here if you do. Since they're after him, we can protect him. But feel free to come back to the house if you need to.”

  
  


Roman let out a muffled groaning noise, knowing that this entire proposal was far more dangerous than Claire realized but her plan was theoretically sound.

  
  


“How far is town from here?”

  
  


“About twenty minutes.”

  
  


“Fine...so what do you do, drive me there?”

  
  


“We could take your van, so I can park it closer to the house when we get back.”

  
  


“Are you asking to drive that thing?”

  
  


“You think I can't handle it?” Claire asked with a bit of fight in her tone.

  
  


“I'm sure you can handle it I just think it's bold.”

  
  


“I'm a bold person. Come on, let's go get this over with.”

  
  


“Now?”

  
  


“Yeah, why not? Day's a-wasting.”

  
  


“Let me go talk to Peter first...”

  
  


Roman headed upstairs to find Peter finally in the shower, and at this point in their...whatever, he found no need for privacy and entered the bathroom just in time to startle him.

  
  


“Do you ever fucking knock?”

  
  


“Would it have changed anything? I'm going into town. You'll be okay until I get back, right?”

  
  


“I wish you'd stop treating me like I'm made of glass, I'm _fine._ I don't need you around 24-7.”

  
  


“Whatever, just letting you know I'm leaving.”

  
  


“Try not to get killed.”

  
  


  
  


The whole interaction left him with a vaguely sour taste in his mouth for reasons he didn't quite understand but he decided to ignore it and make his way back downstairs. He ended up making another wrong turn and ending up in the living room where Max and Kate now sat.

  
  


“What's up, murderer,” Max mumbled. She was clearly high as hell, and Kate only made a tutting noise towards her and gave Roman an apologetic look. He kept his head down and headed past them until he found the kitchen where Claire was waiting for him.

  
  


“This house is fucking confusing,” Roman said before Claire could speak. He tossed her the keys and the both of them made the long trek back through the forest. It was a lot less intimidating in the day than it was at night. He supposed, though it had not been completely dark yet, that seeing someone's skin fall off and turn into a wolf might make things seem a bit more dangerous.

  
  


  
  


Sitting in the passengers seat was weird, he'd been in the drivers seat for so long. Peter could have drove if he wanted to but Roman really didn't want him to with how exhausted he tended to be. It was strange though to watch the road unfold ahead of him with his hands so empty. It was like second nature at this point for them to be on the wheel.

  
  


“So you guys just...live in this thing?” Claire asked.

  
  


“Sort of. We try not to sleep in it if we don't have to. Peter sleeps half the time though so the bed back there is good. But he's been through worse living situations. I'm not used to this kind of life but he seems to be able to do it, and he's the only one I care about.”

  
  


“For someone who's...just friends, you seem to really care a lot about him.”

  
  


“It's kind of hard not to when he's carrying my kid...” Roman mumbled, trying to hide the fact that it wasn't just that.

  
  


“Plenty of men wouldn't give a shit. They'd just up and run.”

  
  


“I'm not those men.”

  
  


Claire let out a slight chuckle and was silent for a good few minutes. It was an uncomfortable silence like she was reading everything about him, and she knew his secrets that he probably wasn't hiding very well. He knew her game; he knew she was just trying to get him to admit it for whatever reason. It wasn't any of her business; it wasn't any of their business.

  
  


“You don't seem like the kinda person who'd like kids,” sh finally said. He wasn't quite sure how to respond to this. What he said was probably pretty stupid, giving her more information than she ever needed.

  
  


“That was true up until recently.”

  
  


“Until you learned you were having a kid?”

  
  


“No...I have a daughter,” he admitted. And there it was, he was spilling his guts to this girl. This girl he didn't know but sometimes he felt like he needed to talk to people more than just Peter. Some new canvas to paint his anguish onto, who might be able to listen to him without the background of his life and knowing just how horribly everything had gone. He knew sometimes he talked too much to the wrong people but he just hoped that Claire was trustworthy.

  
  


“Seriously? Where is she?”

  
  


“I don't know,” he said sounding somewhat mournful. “She's missing and I should be out there looking for her but I can't because of what's going on here. That's what I was doing before all of this happened. It's why Peter ended up at my house in the first place and how we made this stupid mistake.”

  
  


“Missing...? Like she ran away? How old are you...?”

  
  


“Nineteen just recently... I think. I can't even remember what fucking month it is. She was taken ...coincidentally, by the person I think is responsible for what's causing what happened to Annie.”

  
  


“Oh my God you're just a baby...” Claire said sadly. “But wait, what did you say about Annie?”

  
  


“The guy who took my daughter was into some weird fucking shit. He's not even human, we don't know what he even is truly. But we found one of his old labs outside of town and it had this shit in it...like all these jars of dead animals and some kind of weird tumor looking thing with a nervous system. But there was this dog...or a wolf, I don't know. It'd gotten into the cages and killed everything. There was guts everywhere but it'd been down there so long it had mummified and was missing most of it's features, but it was clear that it had died eating itself.

  
  


But the attacks have earned the attention of the media. We heard it the day we left, something about wolf attacks and how one of them was captured and died by a self inflicted injury and had some kind of infection like those freaky fucking mushrooms that get into your brain. Then around the same time apparently, upirs start killing each other.

  
  


I think that thing in the lab was a prototype or something and it's all connected. I don't know what he wants with my daughter but he's pitting things against each other. Upirs against upirs, werewolves against werewolves... Whatever he wants with her is probably something awful and it scares the shit out of me.”

  
  


“Do you have anyone else looking for her?”

  
  


“Yeah...the guy I'm going to be calling soon. Not him specifically, just his team of people.”

  
  


“I truly hope they find her...”

  
  


“This stays between us though, okay? The fact that I have a daughter is top secret.”

  
  


“Why is she such a secret?”

  
  


“Because the circumstances of her birth were...complicated. That's as far as I'll go with this.”

  
  


“Alright, pinky swear, er...verbal pinky swear.”

  
  


  
  


The rest of the ride was quiet with Claire evidently running out of things to talk about. She lead him to the nearest payphone in a town called Springhaven. Roman still had a bad feeling about this and was hesitant to start the call. He just hoped that Pryce answered when he did. Thankfully he did, with hesitation in his voice as he answered.

  
  


“Hello...?” he answered.

  
  


“Pryce...Is there any chance we can bump up this delivery?”

  
  


“Hello to you too, Roman.” Pryce said with a dry sarcasm. “I suppose, but you were supposed to tell me how Peter reacted to the nutrient. At this point though I would have no time to alter the formula.”

  
  


“Very poorly...But it lead us to temporarily staying with a couple of people who I think can be trusted. If The Order knew them they'd be dead by now...How quickly do you think you could get to Springhaven Pennsylvania?”

  
  


“Your trustworthiness in strangers astounds me, Roman...But perhaps this is an opportunity. Where did you plan to meet?”

  
  


“I don't know...There's a McDonalds across the street that might work.”

  
  


“Do you think you could convince them to allow a home visit? I'd like to come along so I can examine Peter and I imagine that it would be easier done in a home and not a McDonalds parking lot.”

  
  


“Uh, yeah, that's fine...”

  
  


“I certainly hope I am not walking into a trap.”

  
  


“If it was a trap we would have already been dead.”

  
  


“Likewise...there is something important I need to speak to you about, so it would be best done in a place that is not an earpiece for The Order.”

  
  


“I promise you, Pryce.”

  
  


“That is what worries me. None of you Godfreys can ever truly keep a promise.”

  
  


“Fuck off. When can you be here?”

  
  


“Four hours according to the GPS, but that is if I leave immediately. It will take some time, give or take five. There are still things I have to gather.”

  
  


“Then I'll meet you here in five hours.”

“Do try to be safe, Roman. I'll inform you when I'm about to arrive. Wait for a text from an unknown number. I'll provide a clue that it's me with something only you and I could know.”

  
  


  
  


The two gave a brief goodbye and Roman headed back out to the van. He was nervous for some reason. Nervous about a lot of things. What if Pryce was right? What if he was really walking into a trap and he should have trusted this nervous feeling the entire time? But if Pryce was right Roman wouldn't have even called, because they'd be dead.

  
  


“You good?” Claire asked. Roman gave a brief nod and without looking at her gave her the time it would take for them to get there. She drove him back in silence until a few minutes from home where she dropped a bomb on him that made him question if he'd heard her right.

  
  


“You should really tell him how you feel,” she said giving him a quick glance before looking back at the road.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“Oh come on, you're a total lovestruck puppy. Tell him how you feel.”

  
  


“I don't know where you're getting that vibe because it's wrong.”

  
  


“It's not a vibe so much as it is a neon sign.”

  
  


“Even if _any_ of that was true, hypothetically...he's a friend, he doesn't feel anything towards me but friendship.”

  
  


“How could you know that? You're not him.”

  
  


“Because he's made it abundantly clear that he doesn't want me to get attached.”

  
  


“So this is already an issue...” Claire smirked. “And would it be an issue if you weren't showing signs of being too attached?”

  
  


“Okay, but even if it _was_ an issue, hypothetically, he's still made it clear. So if I was to tell him how I felt, _if_ I felt that way, wouldn't I be doing exactly what he told me not to do?”

“Oh my God you're so bad at this,” Claire laughed. “Whatever, man. You're just friends, okay. Gotcha.”

  
  


“Right,” Roman said defensively, “Friends.”

  
  


But Roman knew this was so much bullshit. Fuck, if she could see it, what if Peter could see it? Still despite what he did he tried to keep Roman at arms length, but Roman knew that even if Peter didn't this shit was not normal. It was in that moment that Roman made the unconscious decision that when he got home he was going to find out just why the fuck Peter was doing this. It was a driving force in the back of his mind that he didn't even know was really there or why. He should leave well enough alone and forget about this but Roman was always bad at leaving shit alone.

  
  


  
  


When they arrived at the house Roman left the van and headed inside, speaking to no one as a primal drive lead him up the steps to the room he and Peter currently shared. He found that the bed had been remade and that Peter was very boredly looking at his phone propped up against the headboard. He almost felt like he was going to vomit, what the fuck was he doing here? Why was he doing this? Why was he about to start shit that he _knew_ was going to start shit. Fucking stupid, impulsive ass...

  
  


“Peter,” Roman said suddenly, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. Like his vocal chords weren't expecting anything to be coming through them any time soon and he had caught them off guard. Peter made some sort of noise of acknowledgment low in his throat and looked up at him half expectantly and half annoyed.

  
  


“Why do you do the shit you do at night?” Roman asked, the wording being vague but Peter seemed to almost know what he was talking about.

  
  


“Why did you just come in here and start asking me that?”

  
  


“Because I need to know...I mean, you sit there and you tell me to not make a thing out of this...thing we're doing, but then you turn around and start getting, I don't know...weird.”

  
  


“I already told you why I do it.”

  
  


“But really? Is that really it?”

  
  


“Yes, Roman, what the fuck do you want from me?”

  
  


For some reason Roman was irritated about this; very irritated. Claire had got him thinking about just how hypocritical Peter was being. Maybe he couldn't help it but maybe he could and he was feeling incredibly jaded. In all honesty he was just returning the favor; Peter did this shit to him all the time it seemed like, it was his turn. He had to have known that after trying to ignore everything he felt for so long that eventually he was going to reach his breaking point. Was this it?

  
  


“For you to stop yo-yoing all over the fucking place! You tell me not to get close to you, but then you get so close to me at night it's like you're trying to get _into_ me. I offer to try to be something for you but you basically tell me to fuck off and then turn around and try to kiss me or some shit. And I'm supposed to just sit here and take that, like I'm some kind of fucking little pet that you can decide to love on whenever you feel like it but then push away when it's inconvenient...What do you want from _me,_ Peter? Why can't you just make up your fucking mind?”

  
  


“Well right about now I want you to fuck off,” Peter said bitterly. “I don't want you to get too close to me because you start acting like a fucking psychopath when shit goes wrong. You're a fucking upir. That kind of shit runs in your blood, and god fucking knows you've got one hell of a psychotic mother.”

  
  


“Oh, okay,” Roman said letting out a laugh of disbelief and anger. “Okay, you're gonna bring what I am into this. Real nice, Peter. Like I chose this shit!”

  
  


“I didn't choose this, either! “

  
  


“Are you sure about that? You weren't begging to get fucked like a literal dog in heat?”

  
  


“Fuck you!” Peter said, with an anger that was barely restrained in his voice as he stood from the bed. “I'm not going to sit here and take this shit from you. This is exactly what I'm talking about. Look at what you're doing? You're an asshole and you always have been.” He hastily made his exit at this and headed off into the house.

  
  


“Fucking run, it's what you're good at!” Roman shouted after him. He thought about going after him for a moment but he found himself migrating to the bed, with Peter now gone and the air around him dissipating and clearing of the tension and anger that had been hanging in it, Roman realized he'd made a mistake. Oh God, he knew this was going to happen. What did he think Peter was going to do? Admit he was in love with him and rush into his arms, and fall into passion on this strangers bed?

  
  


This was so stupid, he'd pissed Peter off and now it felt like not only was there no chance at salvaging this, but being stuck with him being pissed off was going to be Hell. But Roman had to imagine Peter would stop being angry at him eventually, right? He couldn't hold that kind of a grudge. Peter came back to him eventually the first time he'd told Roman to fuck off, but Roman had to be in a coma for that to happen. Head in his hands, he didn't notice when Claire entered and laid a hand on his shoulder. He jerked in fear and looked up at her, finding her worried face.

  
  


“Thanks,” Roman said sarcastically.

  
  


“How did you fuck up _this_ badly?”

  
  


“I don't know...” Roman sighed out. “I just started thinking about it, and the more I thought about it, the more pissed I got...because he's so goddamn hypocritical about shit.”

  
  


“Can you blame him?”

  
  


“I sure the fuck can. It might not be right but that doesn't mean I can't. Besides, even if I can't blame him I can still be pissed about it.”

  
  


“He'll cool off,” Claire said as she sat down next to him.

  
  


“I'm sure he will...but that fucker picks fights with me all the time about this shit. Then look what he does? He doesn't like being on the other side of things.”

  
  


“Was he always like this?”

  
  


“No...I mean, not when I met him. But...a lot of bad shit happened. Things went south, he lost his face, he lost his girlfriend, then I lost him. When we met again almost a year later we were both different people. He started getting aggressive-,”

  
  


“Wait, he lost his face?”

  
  


“To turn against the moon...He had to lose his face or some shit, to kill a vargulf. But he started becoming one himself. If he turns again against the moon he won't come back. I know it's fucked with his head a lot but it's gotten worse. He gets _so_ combative with me sometimes. He can't make up his damn mind either.”

  
  


“Poor thing...” Claire said sadly. “So he's already got mental issues. Imagine now everything is changing, he's got hormones he's never had before. He's experiencing something he never should have to.”

  
  


“I get it,” Roman said, defeated. “I know being pregnant has done no favors to his mind or body but I can't...I can't just fucking sit here, and let him do this to me. I'm not as strong as people think I am.”

  
  


“So what are you going to do?”

  
  


“I don't know. Apologize I guess, until I snap and we fight again and then I have to wait for him to cool off, because I'm a fucking idiot and he's a hypocrite.”

  
  


  
  


While Roman spoke with Claire, Peter ended up half lost until he found his way out onto the balcony. Roman was right, running was what he was good at. It's what he was _born_ for and right now he felt incredibly trapped. Pissed off and longing to feel the cold chill of the forest on his skin, but that wasn't true. It was mostly the wolf that was still begging to get free, never truly subdued despite the fact that it could not be released. In times like this when he felt trapped, the wolf was ever present. The wolf was simple and easy, and sometimes Peter thought that it might be better to be a wolf than a person.

  
  


When Roman did this kind of shit it felt like being backed into a corner but he couldn't truly blame him. Peter _had_ done the same thing to him several times before, maybe it was his turn to get a taste of his own medicine but that logical part of his brain was currently skewed. But he _knew_ it was fucked up and he hated it. He felt like such a fucking coward to know his first instinct was to run, but he couldn't run from the way his brain was saturated in estrogen. He couldn't run from the fact that he knew it was stupid as fuck to be mad at Roman but he was still angry regardless.

  
  


He sat silent and watched the way his breath showed when he breathed until he heard the door open beside him. Kate stood there looking worried, having no doubt heard at least some of that fight.

  
  


“You okay, honey?” she asked.

  
  


“Yeah...It's not like I'm surprised, traveling with a fucking prick like that.”

  
  


“Come inside,” she said as she neared the bench he was sitting on. “You're not dressed for this weather.”

  
  


“Neither are you...”

  
  


“I know, but I only came out here to bring you inside.”

  
  


Defeated and now slightly calmer he stood to follow her inside. The bitter cold was bracing and enjoyable up until a point and it was already beginning to reach that point. She lead him back to her room, in an attempt that was most likely to keep him away from Roman but Peter found it a little weird. After this outburst of anger, though, he was just starting to feel exhausted from it all. She gently guided him to sit down on the bed and he did so without question.

  
  


“Talk to me,” she said.

  
  


“About what?” Peter asked. “I have nothing to talk about.”

  
  


“Whatever it is that's bothering you.”

  
  


“Nothing's bothering me...” he said, though he knew he was lying and so did she.

  
  


“Ah, yes. I also storm out of the house when I'm perfectly fine, too.”

  
  


“Honestly I don't even know what the problem is,” Peter admitted. “I'm pissed off at him but he's kind of right...Fuck him, though.”

  
  


“You know, when my sister was pregnant she had the same problem as you did. Her husband would come home and not put a fork in the dishwasher and she'd tear him a new one.”

  
  


“Roman isn't my husband, or my lover, or whatever the fuck you want to call him.”

  
  


“But he's there for you, isn't he?”

  
  


“Yeah...Shit, he's there for me too much. Sometimes I just want him to give me some space. But I guess he can't give me space if we're stuck in a van together 24/7.”

  
  


“Did he do this before?”

  
  


“Sort of...not really, no. But I think he's so afraid of losing me again that he thinks I'm made of glass.” Peter sighed and ran a hand along his face for a moment while he thought about just how much stupid shit was happening in his life right now. “I'm a fucking idiot...I know he's got feelings for me but I can't go down that road. So I just keep trying to push him away because I know he can be really unstable. But sometimes I just feel so goddamn lonely.”

  
  


“Why don't you give him a chance?”

  
  


“Because I don't...I don't think I feel the same. Roman is just not boyfriend material. I think the only reason I show him any affection is because of the baby and what it's doing to my head. If I go down that road, and figure out that that's the only reason I felt like this, I don't know what that will do to him. Then I don't know what he'll do to me...”

  
  


“Do you think he's capable of hurting you?”

  
  


“I mean, do I think he's not? No. I don't think he _will_ but he's proven me wrong before.”

  
  


“It's hard for me to know where to stand here, I don't know either of you and as you probably have been taught, upirs are not the most trustworthy bunch but...he seems like an okay guy.”

  
  


“I guess he's not as bad as most of them...”

  
  


“Then that's something to focus on, instead of the negatives.”

  
  


“Let me ask you something...why are you doing this? What made you come get me from outside and have this...talk, or whatever.”

  
  


“It's just in my nature to help people I see are suffering, however small the suffering might be. Stay away from him for a while, see how it feels to not be near him. It might help to put things in perspective. I'll let you use my room for now. Does that sound okay?”

  
  


“Sure...” Peter said, not really wanting to take up her room but she seemed to want to, and far be it from him to deny her of this simple pleasure.

  
  


After around twenty minutes of being alone he truly realized just _how_ alone he was. He had not even thought to acknowledge it earlier and yet he was forced now with this truth now that he had time to think about it. The room was deafeningly silent, not one person around but him. He'd grown used to loneliness over the years, but now loneliness was something that almost seemed foreign and wrong. But aside from just lonely he was also incredibly bored and he tried to keep his mind busy with his phone for a while until the boredom quite literally put him to sleep. Had he not been so exhausted in the first place it may not have happened but as it was, Peter was frequently exhausted.

  
  


  
  


For once in his life Roman did the same. He slept for the sake of sleeping. He knew that he wanted to leave as soon as he could which meant probably driving through the night. He needed to get some rest before that happened. For once he dreamed; the kind of dreams he used to have that didn't make sense but were of some strange importance. An overcast sun shining behind the clouds, a set of massive wings coming to blot it out. Black and webbed, he couldn't quite make anything out but the wings and some kind of muscular black torso. The sound of screaming filled the air, only the scream was distorted. Hissing, screeching and angry. It changed suddenly into a sound that shouldn't be there. A soft blip that yanked Roman from his dreams with how out of place it seemed, and he groggily turned over to look at his phone lying next to him.

  
  


  
  


There was a text on his phone from a phone number he didn't recognize with nothing but a date from about a year ago. Nadia's birthday...He assumed that must be Pryce. He quickly pulled himself out of bed and made his way downstairs. He remembered that he was supposed to be angry at Peter but he couldn't help wondering where he was at the moment. Claire was sitting in the living room and looked up at him as he entered.

  
  


“Do you have any idea where Peter is?” Roman asked, shoving his hands in his pockets to feel for the keys he'd put there.

  
  


“He's asleep in Kate's room.”

  
  


“Okay...well, I don't think he cares right now if I tell him I'm leaving. I got the text.”

  
  


“Awesome. Keys?”

  
  


Roman tossed the keys to her in response and she fumbled a bit before getting a good grip on them, giving him a slight glare and heading out towards the van. She was quiet for a few moments but Roman knew it wasn't going to last. It didn't.

  
  


“I think Kate is at least supportive of the whole upir werewolf relationship thing.”

  
  


“It's not a relationship...” Roman defended. “I mean, you saw what happened.”

  
  


“She talked him out of it, though. Made him realize he shouldn't hate you.”

  
  


“How do you know?”

  
  


“Because she told me.”

  
  


“How does _she_ know?”

  
  


Claire gave a shrug “Women's intuition, I guess.”

  
  


“Why would it matter anyway? You're not family or anything...you don't have to convince me that Kate is supportive. I barely even know Kate.”

  
  


  
  


“I'm just saying...maybe she'll help him see it, you know?”

  
  


“Maybe...if there was anything to see.”

  
  


Claire let out a groan and rolled her eyes so hard that she had to roll her neck just to signify how hard she was rolling them. “Fine, whatever, keep being fucking emo about it, I don't care.”

  
  


Roman laughed at this and kept silent for most of the rest of the ride, arriving there somewhat earlier than they'd anticipated. Pryce was taking a little longer than he'd hoped. He was feeling antsy as it was from the fight he'd had earlier and he didn't like sitting out in the open like this. With each passing, waking moment he was filled with regret. This is why he didn't talk about his feelings, or attempt to let any inkling of the fact that he loved Peter slip out.

  
  


When Pryce finally did arrive it was a welcome relief, and they exchanged a quick greeting before Claire began to lead him back to the house. Roman remained tense this entire time as well, as it was getting somewhat dark and these woods were even darker. So much easier to get lost, to run into something that shouldn't exist. And what if in the dark something finally came for them? But it was some abstract thing that Roman couldn't quite put his finger on, just what was he truly afraid of? Those fears were only silenced somewhat when they arrived at the house and he was able to speak to Pryce more properly.

  
  


“You've certainly found a ..seemingly nice place to hide out for the moment,” Pryce commented as the two of them finally met up in front of the van. Claire hopped out and headed inside after giving Pryce a very quick greeting and leaving the two of them alone. She knew when to make herself scarce and not involve herself in things that didn't concern her.

  
  


“I want to get out of here as soon as we get this shit done with.”

  
  


“A novel idea...However, I'm a little disappointed in you I must say, for leaving Peter here without you in a place that you still can't know everything about.”

  
  


“He's pissed off at me, he wouldn't have come even if I asked.”

  
  


“That is a shame, I'm likely going to need his cooperation.”

  
  


“He's not pissed at you, just me.”

  
  


“What did you do this time?”

  
  


“Why is it always me?” Roman said with a scoff. “He's hormonal as fuck and trying to bite my head off for nothing.”

  
  


“Somehow I don't believe you but pressing the issue will likely get me nowhere. But to the matter at hand,” Pryce said, stepping behind the van to his own SUV sized vehicle, to throw open the trunk and pull out what was a very large cooler. “Your one and only source of nutrition. I hope.”

  
  


“More or less.” At this Pryce frowned at him but again decided not to push the issue. He picked the cooler up like it was nothing one handed, but it looked pretty heavy. Roman forgot that Pryce could probably punch a hole through someone's body with ease, with how mild mannered and boring he appeared to be. He found room for it in the back of the van amongst the plastic bags of non perishables and toiletries. Afterwards Pryce turned towards him and sat against the edge of the van where it opened in the back.

  
  


“I know the weather is less than ideal for this but I'd like to speak to you away from prying ears as much as I can. I know you trust these people but you can never be too careful, Roman. I need you to remember that.”

  
  


“I got it,” Roman said with a small bite of annoyance.

  
  


“How is it exactly that Peter reacts to the nutrient? Very poorly isn't exactly a wellspring of information.”

  
  


“He said it's like having the worlds worst food poisoning. But from what I've seen it's more...” he gesticulated for a moment looking for the right word, “Intestinal.”

  
  


“I feared as much...Well, the only thing we can do for now is to make sure he stay hydrated and to make sure the next time this happens you are somewhere that isn't mobile.”

  
  


“Is this what you had to talk to me about, outside of prying ears?”

  
  


“No...Last night after we spoke we had a breakthrough on Nadia's location. We believe we may have narrowed it down to a town a few hours from Hemlock Grove. I've sent a team there to recover her, should she truly be there.”

  
  


“Wait, so you found her?” Roman asked with excitement in his tone.

  
  


“I think...but for all I know I could be sending them into a trap. Spivak seems to rely more on trickery though than brute force. A team of people may be able to withstand whatever he's planning easier than just one or two.”

  
  


“What do you plan on doing if they do bring her back, with you here?”

  
  


“I've left strict instructions for Blinsky to watch over her at the tower. The man is nearly incompetent but it _was_ him that helped to narrow down her location. I can imagine he can at least watch an infant without screwing things up. The security there has been tightened since the shooting so the likelihood of anyone getting in is slim.”

  
  


“What about after, though? I don't want my mother getting a single fucking hint that she's back.”

  
  


“Don't worry about Olivia. She's too preoccupied with your disappearance to think about her granddaughter suddenly reappearing.”

  
  


“Has she not put two and two together that you were the one that tipped us off?”

  
  


“I told her that the order was not quite as careful as they should have been and you were the one who figured it out. On that matter you should be cautious not just of the Order, but her. She may come looking for you at some point.”

  
  


“If she comes near me with any intent to do harm I'll rip out her fucking throat. Maybe I'll do it just to be safe.”

  
  


“Olivia...She is no more than a snake in some aspects but it seems as though somewhere in her cold, dead heart she does care for you, Roman.”

  
  


“She has a funny way of showing it,” he scoffed. “Norman should have killed her when he had the chance. What about Shelley?”

  
  


“Shelley...well, as you know since you left there was nowhere for her to go but with your mother. However it seems even she's grown tired of her. As far as I know she's living in the Godfrey mill, she's become somewhat of a celebrity. I've offered to let her stay at the Tower for a time but she seems perfectly content there. She's made friends, she's even found a boyfriend.”

  
  


Roman was at first worried but as Pryce spoke he began to feel more at ease, despite the fact that his sister was essentially choosing to be homeless, but if it's what she chose then he would honor that decision. Olivia had her under her thumb for her entire life, and even if she was living in the slums she was at least free, and had somehow found a happiness that he'd never dreamed of her having.

  
  


“Good for her,” he said with a slight breath of a laugh, meaning every word, none of it sarcasm.

  
  


“Yes, I just pray she doesn't get hurt...Aside from that, I think it's best I don't stay long, and would really like to have a look at Peter. We could do it here, or in the house...”

  
  


“There's probably more room in the house, we could be in private.”

“Good...I'll get my equipment. Please try to make up with him so I don't have to deal with the two of you fighting.”

  
  


“Don't count on it,” Roman said, but he did head off into the house to find Peter. He asked Kate where he was to find that he was still in her room, as far as she knew. After a few instructions of how to find it he headed upstairs only to be greeted with something incredibly unsettling. There as a thin trail of blood leading away from her door. He opened it hastily to make sure he hadn't come back, but all he found were bloody sheets.

  
  


  
  


Roman felt such fear at this moment, not even sure what exactly he was afraid of. Peter, logically, but it was the first time Roman really felt afraid for the well being of the baby. Because everyone knew, stereotypically, what bloody sheets and pregnancy _usually_ meant. With this fueling the fire of fear he quickly turned and followed it in the opposite direction, which lead them back to the room they'd been staying in and towards the bathroom. The bathroom door was open so luckily he didn't have to bust in, but found him once again standing in front of the sink with the most horrendous nosebleed. He shouldn't have felt so relieved to see him spewing blood from the facial region but he was.

  
  


“You scared the shit out of me,” Roman said with a sigh of relief as he neared him. Peter gave him a look that said he had not forgiven him completely but responded regardless.

  
  


“This is a fucking fantastic development,” he said sarcastically.

  
  


Roman felt somewhat ashamed to feel the stirrings of hunger in his stomach; there was so much blood. It was soaking the collar of his shirt and dripping into the sink, and it was even worse to think the only reason he did not think to suck the blood from the fabric of his shirt was that it was coming from a place he would rather not have his tongue on.

  
  


“Give me your shirt,” Roman commanded, prompting Peter to look somewhat confused for a minute before pulling it off.

  
  


“It doesn't matter, there's no getting this blood out.”

  
  


Roman was silent, folding the shirt up a few times absentmindedly until it was almost a tiny square. Peter was right, the shirt was totally fucked, but here he was standing with a blood covered fabric square wondering what he was supposed to do with it now that he had it.

  
  


“You're on thin fucking ice, by the way,” Peter said, straightening out once it seemed the bleeding had stopped. He gathered water from the tap in his hands to splash it across his face until it ran down the drain in tiny rivulets of pink. “I'm still pissed at you.”

  
  


“I know,” Roman said almost meekly, but there was the bubbling of anger in his chest that he pushed down the best he could. “Pryce is here, he wants to look at you.”

  
  


“Seriously?”

  
  


“Yeah, it's why I went into town earlier. Might have told you that had you not tried to bite my head off...” he mumbled.

  
  


“Thin ice,” Peter reminded.

  
  


“Fine, whatever. Just...stay here, I'll go get him.”

  
  


Roman felt like he was two minutes from smacking the shit out of Peter if he didn't knock it off, but in all honesty he knew he wouldn't do that to him. In every moment the two of them had argued or fought Roman had never truly desired hurting Peter but he would not lie that the thought had not briefly crossed his mind once or twice, only to be pushed down by how ridiculous the notion was. He found himself stuffing the bloodied square into his pocket as he made his way downstairs and calmed somewhat with each step until he was at the front door again to greet Pryce, who was holding what almost looked like an incredibly large briefcase.

  
  


“He's still pissed at me,” Roman warned as he motioned for him to come inside.

  
  


“Perhaps it would be better for you to wait outside, then.”

  
  


“Fuck that. This is my kid, too.” As he was heading inside he briefly ran into Kate and stopped her long enough to tell her the damage.

  
  


“There's blood all over your bed...and the carpet. I'm sorry.”

  
  


“Oh no...” Kate said before rushing upstairs past him.

  
  


“You didn't hit him, did you?” Pryce asked.

  
  


“No, Jesus, what kind of person do you think I am?”

  
  


“One who can quite often be seen letting his emotions get the best of him.”

  
  


“He's having horrible nosebleeds.” Roman clarified, “And fuck off, I do not.”

  
  


“That is an unfortunate side effect of pregnancy...” Pryce said, almost nonchalantly.

  
  


“He's already ruined one shirt and possibly two sheets, today alone.”

  
  


Pryce merely nodded at this as they arrived at the door, where drops of drying blood still called to Roman's attention. He pushed past it and found Peter sitting on the bed, still as shirtless as he'd left him with the addition of a jacket that had apparently not been in the way of wherever the blood fell. Pryce exchanged formalities of greeting with him before he opened the large case containing an almost equally large laptop, a tube of gel and what looked like the end of an ultrasound probe. There was a jolt of apprehension and fear low in his stomach as he saw this. Though it should have seemed obvious Roman had never truly considered the ultrasound. He hadn't seen this thing in a hot minute, when it was barely old enough to have a beating heart. They had no idea what was going on in there. What if it was something bad?

  
  


There was yet another uncomfortable silence in the room as Pryce set up the laptop and plugged it in in one of the wall outlets. Almost like the feeling of being death row, knowing what's coming is bad, but no one would speak of it. Peter looked kind of nervous too. Like maybe he didn't really want to know, either. When everything was set up Pryce placed the laptop on the nightstand, with a program open that had some kind of error displayed on the screen until Pryce hooked the probe up using the USB port.

  
  


“Can you lay back for me?” Pryce finally asked, and Peter did so hesitantly. Afterwards he took the gel in hand and warned him before putting it on, “This is going to be uncomfortable at first,” he said before putting a fairly sizable dollop onto the skin of his abdomen. Roman watched him tense up for a moment under the coldness of the gel, and even more so when Pryce pushed the probe against it. The screen showed nothing but grayish white blobs that made no sense to Roman and evidently was not what Pryce was looking for. But when he did apparently find what he was looking for he seemed incredibly surprised to say the least.

  
  


“Oh my...this is not what I expected.”

  
  


Roman couldn't see much once again other than a faint pulse and a bunch of black and white masses and lines. But of course he should have expected that something in there was off, even if Roman couldn't see what the fuck it was.

  
  


“Do you want to give some fucking explanation or are you going to make me guess?” Roman asked.

  
  


“Give me a moment...I'm not sure if what I'm seeing is right.” Pryce said, shifting the probe along his abdomen but evidently being unable to find the right angle. He held the probe in place for a moment and used his free hand to push against the sides Peter's abdomen until he got the reaction he was looking for. Roman watched on the screen as the greys shifted until the one most prominent shape moved and he was able to see it in profile. Unlike before it was much easier to tell what he was looking at, and that was unlike before, the very distinct shape of something human. Big headed with arms and legs, at least that's what it seemed like when it moved. Roman watched as Pryce pushed against it gently again to test it's reaction and it twitched and tried to move away from his hand. Flailing its skinny little limbs before curling against itself again.

  
  


  
  


Roman felt some powerful lump in his throat seeing this. His pulse was thudding in his chest and he almost felt like he was going to faint. He'd known obviously he was expecting a kid but this cemented it so much. He was both elated and terrified. He'd failed as a father through half of Nadia's living life, what if he failed again? What if he couldn't figure out how to love this thing either? But he felt, once again, a sense of protectiveness over this human shaped cell clump so powerful that he felt he might move Heaven and Earth to keep it safe. He glanced down at Peter who almost seemed as shocked as he was and felt an incredibly strong urge to kiss him, to thank him for this gift and promise to be there as long as he could, but he fought it off. Roman, to Peter, was merely the vessel for which had created something that had been a burden to them up until this point. It was hard to admit that though Roman felt attachment to this child he also knew it had caused so many problems. It was hard to imagine how something so small could have almost killed Peter not long ago.

  
  


“My assumptions appear to be correct...You should have been in or near your third month, approximately...ten weeks, according to what I saw the last time I examined you...But you're fifteen. You've very nearly bypassed an entire month.”

  
  


Peter let out an annoyed muted groan and pinched the bridge of the nose at this, though he seemed more annoyed than afraid, which was what Roman was. This thing was growing way too fast...Pryce agreed to this as he spoke again.

  
  


“Your mother has no idea what kind of danger she's put the both of you in.”

  
  


“I don't think she gives a shit either way.”

  
  


“Nevertheless... this baby has no certain due date. It could be...a month from now, perhaps, at the earliest. Two months, a normal nine month pregnancy is off the table.”

  
  


“Awesome,” Peter mumbled.

  
  


“But for the most part, despite it's growth...it appears to be healthy,” Pryce said, typing in a few things on the laptop before a sudden loud noise caught Roman off guard; a quickened whooshing pulsing noise. “And the hart rate appears to sound good.”

  
  


“That's it's heart...?” Peter asked

  
  


“Yes...” Pryce said, though he seemed uncertain. He moved the probe away from that spot and up further, in the hollow between Peter's ribs. There was a much slower pulse here, and when he moved it back it quickened. “Yes, that is the heartbeat. The other one is yours. You'll have to forgive me, I'm not exactly a licensed obstetrician, so my knowledge is perhaps not as good as someone who's profession this is. But I have studied enough to know more than the average layman. But of course, I had to double-check.”

  
  


“So ...you could be wrong about this thing being further than it should?” Peter asked.

  
  


“Oh, no I'm quite certain that this fetus is developing incredibly fast. It was the heart beat I was uncertain of for a moment.”

  
  


“Don't pregnant women show around this time? He's still so...small.” Roman asked.

  
  


“Well, this is true, but actually...” Pryce said, pulling the probe away and stopping the program for the moment. He pushed one hand against Peter's upper torso, which he didn't seem to happy about. “He is, if you know how to look.”

  
  


Pryce indeed did have a point, with the rest of his stomach pushed in slightly there was a bit more protrusion lower, closer to his hips, than there normally would have been. Peter appeared to be both terrified and annoyed by the entire prospect though, judging by his expression.

  
  


“It differs from woman to woman, though. Some don't show much at all. Peter is obviously not a woman but he appears to be taking that path. You can clean yourself up now if you'd like,” Pryce said, and Peter spent no time getting up from the bed and heading into the bathroom to partake of a towel.

  
  


“Would you like any of these?” Pryce asked Roman. “I can have a few photos saved, or sent to your phone.”

  
  


“I, uh...no. Maybe.”

  
  


“Nevertheless I'm going to keep the record of what I've done here today for the sake of scientific study, so they're there for you if you need them.”

  
  


“I don't think he's really thrilled about the whole thing so just...hold off on sending me anything for now. But don't treat him like some kind of experiment.”

  
  


“I'm aware he is a person, but think of what this kind of evidence might mean to future generations.”

  
  


“Whatever...” Roman said, still annoyed at the prospect even if it wasn't him that was being poked and prodded at metaphorically, or perhaps literally.

  
  


“I'd like to exchange more pleasantries but it's important for me to get going. You never know who's watching.”

  
  


“Yeah, I get it, you don't need to tell me twice. Go on,” Roman said dismissively, and Pryce gave him one final farewell before leaving.

  
  


  
  


Over the next few minutes, in relative silence the two of them made preparations to leave. Peter seemed a little freaked out about the whole thing but he had the right to be. Roman was too. But Peter seemed to be avoiding Roman's gaze almost purposefully. Skulking around somewhat, bundled up in the jacket now that it was the only thing he had to wear. They headed downstairs about ten minutes after Pryce had left and Roman informed Claire that they were leaving.

  
  


“Aw, really? Come on, you can stay a little longer, right?”

  
  


“It's not a good idea,” Roman said.

  
  


“Let them go,” Paige said, appearing from the hallway. She tried to look commanding and uncaring but Roman sensed, and saw, that she almost seemed somewhat ...afraid. “I think it's fine if they leave.”

  
  


“So unwelcoming,” Claire pouted. “Wait, give me your phone,” she said to Roman. It seemed like a horrible idea but Roman trusted Claire more than he did those upirs at the moment, and Claire typed something into his phone before handing it back. “My number, in case you need anything. If you're in the area or...in a bind, or something.”

  
  


“Come on, Claire,” Paige hissed. “Quit holding them up.”

  
  


“Fine,” she groaned, but she seemed suspicious of Paige's motives.

  
  


  
  


  
  


They headed back to the van after a quick farewell and Peter dug a shirt out of one of the bags to pull on as Roman pulled off. He climbed into the front seat next to him and listened to the dull hum of the radio to put his mind at ease. Because at the moment, Peter's mind was very much not at ease. And for the next thirty minutes as they drove in silence, it was not eat ease. Side glances and guilt eating at him until finally he spoke up about just what he'd been feeling since earlier.

  
  


“I'm sorry,” he said suddenly, his voice cutting through past the droning radio.

  
  


“About what?” Roman asked, but it's not like he didn't already know.

  
  


“You know what. That stupid shit earlier...”

  
  


“I shouldn't have brought it up,” Roman said, though there was bitterness in his tone.

  
  


“Look, I...” Peter started, his voice uncertain with every syllable. “I said shit I shouldn't have. It was fucking shitty. I shouldn't have used you being an upir against you. I know you can't help that shit and I'm such a fucking hypocrite for saying it.”

“You kind of were, if I'm being honest...”

  
  


“I know and I hate myself for it,” Peter said hopelessly. If ever there was something called word vomit, this is what he was doing right now. But it was better than the actual vomit. “I don't know what I want half the time. I don't know what's me anymore, or what's...hormones, or what's the wolf. I can't tell what I'm fucking feeling half the time and I know I pick fights with you sometimes for no good reason, and it's fucking stupid. It's stupid and I can't stand myself sometimes because of it. I don't know what I feel but I know today I felt...something. Because the last time I saw that kid it was...fucking nothing. But now it's something it's...alive, and I feel...guilty, terrified, excited, I don't know what the fuck it is...” Peter stopped to catch his breath for a minute and listened to the drone of the radio still and Roman's silence. He couldn't see through the dark other than the passing street lamp, despite the fact that where they were seemed to be fairly deserted. Back roads with the very occasional light source.

  
  


“And then there's you, I...I don't know what the fuck you mean to me. Sometimes I want you to fuck off, but then other times I feel so fucking lonely even though you're in the room with me. And fuck, I don't think I can sleep alone forever after this because I've grown so accustomed to having you there. And it scares me, because I don't know if whatever this shit I'm feeling is real or it's hormones. So I don't want you to get close to me...because if it wears off, I don't know what the fuck you'll do. But then I just...I want you to touch me, I want ...something. I want company and something that isn't just what friends do but I shouldn't. But fuck me, sometimes when you kiss me it feels so fucking good. But I'm so goddamn confused...”

  
  


God, Peter really needed to shut up, he was digging himself so far into a hole, backpedaling without really meaning to, confused as fuck .Truly he felt _something_ for Roman, but it wasn't like what he felt for Letha. He loved Letha, but he didn't think this was love. There was no fucking way, but his brain was seven hundred different kinds of fucked up. It was already wrong from the wolf, it was worse from the hormones.

  
  


“So I was really pissed off at you today but then Pryce came and I just...It was fucking surreal, to know that this thing we made, this thing is living and...was a huge fucking mistake but it's _our_ stupid mistake, and it's something we did together without even meaning to.”

  
  


“You know I'd never hurt you,” Roman finally said. “As much as I've been pissed at you before, I've never really wanted to hurt you.”

  
  


“You threatened to kill me, Roman.”

  
  


“For like, a minute,” he defended. “But it was just stupid talk because I was fucking hurt.”

  
  


Peter fell silent again for a moment and watched out the window as Roman drove, for another few minutes until they fell into darkness and Roman suddenly pulled off onto the side, somewhere near the woods. The drone continued on but there was suddenly an electric pull between both of them that had Roman lunging towards the side and Peter meeting him as he moved, for Roman to grip his hair and kiss him hard. Peter struggled to keep upright over the seat and managed to clamber over it to kneel above Roman's lap. He was gripping Roman's face with one hand and the back of his neck with the other, his hair still tangled in the upir's fingers with a hand resting on his hip, or rather gripping it somewhat forcefully.

  
  


  
  


It was frantic and rushed, like a switch had suddenly been flipped and they were both hard almost immediately, scrabbling to find purchase on any part of the body either of them could reach. Kissing like they would need it to breathe more than air. Peter had quickly moved from word vomiting to the sudden undeniable need to get laid immediately. He unintentionally interrupted the moment by accidentally leaning against the steering wheel and hitting the horn suddenly. Startled, he ended up bucking forward and hitting Roman in the nose again with his face. Roman seemed to find funnier than he did the first time and it merely devolved into the two of them laughing for a moment, kissing between amused breaths of laughter before Roman finally pulled away.

  
  


“This isn't going to work...up here,” he clarified.

  
  


“No, it's not.”

  
  


  
  


Roman practically knocked him out of the seat maneuvering him out of it, unintentionally tossing him roughly onto the makeshift bed behind the seats. Hands sliding beneath his shirt and against his skin before he could even right himself. He touched him everywhere, as much as he could as did Peter. It was like neither of them wanted to stop touching the other at all, ,but Roman did long enough to get Peter's pants off and slip his shirt up nearly to his collarbone. Slipping lube-slicked fingers between his thighs as Peter stared him down as almost a challenge.

  
  


It was the first time they'd fucked back here, but it was different from most times before. It was visceral and raw; teeth and skin and nails all coming together, holding onto everything they could of each other. Roman kissed him through most of it and fucked him with such purpose and calculated precision it was almost like he was doing math rather than fucking, but _God_ was it good math. But at the same time it was almost unpredictable, wild and untamed. An energy that passed between the two of them, like the wind and the forest, and the feel of desperation and profound longing that just made the whole thing fucking explosive.

  
  


It very nearly was, because when Peter finally came, or rather inevitably did so in the first ten minutes, the noise he let out as so guttural and raw that it rivaled the sound and force of a small explosion. Low and deep in his throat, not usually the kind of sounds he made when he got off like this. But they heightened into something that almost sounded painful, because in honesty after a moment it was, because it took Roman another minute or two to finally come and the over sensitivity got to him after a moment.

  
  


For a moment, after Roman finally stopped hovering over him and pulled out, he laid next to him in the now incredibly tangled sheets and blankets on their pathetic little mattress.

  
  


“That was...kind of not expected,” Roman said breathlessly. “But pretty fucking great.” Peter was quiet but he mumbled out a breathless 'Yeah' towards him before turning on his side to face him.

  
  


“We don't talk about this,” Peter warned. “We don't talk about the shit I told you, okay?”

  
  


“Okay,” Roman agreed somewhat tiredly, but he knew that despite this small pit-stop that they couldn't stay here for the night, and he gathered his clothes from the floor and climbed back into the front.

  
  


  
  


Roman was okay, he thought. He could live with this, knowing what he knew now about Peter. About how Peter definitely didn't want to talk about it anytime soon but Roman held some hope in his heart now that Peter didn't think of him as _just_ a friend. It would hurt like Hell if Peter decided he was done with him after the kid was born but he promised him. He promised to never hurt him, and that was a promise he aimed to keep no matter how badly he got hurt in the process.

  
  


Peter was asleep in minutes, lack of pants and all, seeming exhausted after the sudden backseat romp. Because quite honestly, to Roman, he did not think he had fucked someone with as much passion as he did with Peter just then. Fuck, it even tired _him_ out, but he had a job to do, and that was to drive. So he did, tired but invigorated all the same.

  
  


  
  


But they could not have known the danger that stopping there might have caused them had they waited just a bit longer. For thirty minutes after they had left Paige received a phone call.

  
  


“Why did you let them go?” the woman on the other line asked.

“Because I'm fucking done. I'm not doing this for you anymore. I quit. They're just kids...”

  
  


“Have you forgotten our arrangement?”

  
  


“Oh, I remember it pretty damn well. Let us live in peace until you need us to do some of your dirty work? No, fuck that. I should have known better than to trust the Order.”

  
  


“Fine, you want to die? Good. I've been looking for an excuse to take out that entire house for a year now.”

  
  


“Then come and get me, you bitch.” Paige said as she hung up the phone and shoved it into her pocket.

  
  


For none of them could have known it, except Lorelei who was suspicious but Paige had a way of keeping secrets from her. They couldn't have known that years prior the Order had contacted her with blackmail and the threat to kill them all if Paige didn't cooperate, to lie in wait until they needed something. But despite the fact that she didn't really care for Roman, she definitely wasn't going to let the two of them get caught. She wasn't going to wait for that bitch to go get her own van, prepare a bed and abscond with them into the night for whatever the fuck it was she'd warned her to hold them for. She only prayed that they were far enough away to escape before this venomous bitch came after them. She should have told them about the bug, or taken it, but she didn't have the time...

  
  


  
  


She did have the time to warn the rest of her housemates just before it caught on fire with a dozen Molotovs tossed through the windows. But just as much as the rest of The Wolfpack had been kept in the dark about Paige's secret pact, that bitch definitely didn't know about the hidden door in the basement. The one that lead to an underground bunker nearly as big as the house itself. So as it burned in the night above them, they huddled together beneath it. Cold and shaken but alive. She just hoped that they never caught on that she and her pack had escaped that fire alive. It would be better for them to remain a ghost for some time than to show any trace of their faces to the enemy. The pact was finished with, but they could eat her dick.

 


	11. Liquid Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features some very graphic violence and I apologize for everything in it 
> 
> Something happens here that will change Peter for a good duration of the fic and I hope everyone is okay with it. 
> 
> But after you read all the blood and gore there's some art at the end at least

  
  


Roman had though that perhaps he'd enjoy affection or sex with Peter if it was offered up to him. But he was beginning to see the downside of it. Over the course of...however the fuck long, things had changed. Peter wasn't quite as tired as much but what energy he'd gained back was spent, at least half way, trying to fuck. But of course this was no easy task being on the road all the time. He'd thought the random arousal before was bad but now he was just insatiable. Casting off the cloak of inhibition and absolutely not caring about trying to keep things between them friendly. So it was great, at first, until Roman felt like he was shooting blanks he'd gotten off so much and it was honestly exhausting.

  
  


Roman had been sleeping so little and exhausting so much energy that it was beginning to take a toll on him. When he did get the chance to sleep he was often plagued by the thoughts of Nadia, and how Pryce never did tell him anything about what they found. Had he truly gotten his hopes up for nothing? He was currently having that problem, lying naked and cold in the back of the van. It was probably better for him to be dressed but he had not had the energy to pull his clothes back on after having the life fucked out of him. Though it seemed that tonight Peter was not nearly enthusiastic about it as usual. He at least had him and the blanket to warm him, but even if Roman could think about sleeping Peter seemed so distressed as he slept that Roman couldn't.

  
  


  
  


He would go between being huddled against him to thrashing over to his other side. When Roman had nearly fallen asleep, not entirely asleep but in some dazed stupor where his mind was starting to shut down before his eyes did, he was suddenly awakened by Peter waking up and letting out an annoyed groan.

  
  


“Dude, what is your deal?” Roman mumbled.

  
  


“I can't fucking sleep.”

  
  


“Can you just not sleep or is something wrong?” Roman asked, his voice only slightly concerned as the rest of it was weighed down with exhaustion.

  
  


“Something...” Peter started, silent for a moment as though considering his words. “Something ...hurts, somewhere. It aches but I don't know where or what. Like when you have an itch somewhere but it's too deep and it feels like it's in your bones. And you try to scratch and realize it's not there, but it is there, but somehow it feels like it's everywhere else too...”

  
  


“So it's like an itch...” Roman said as he closed his eyes though he didn't really mean to.

  
  


“It's kind of like ...someone taking a really long needle and just fucking stabbing you in the balls with it. But they keep going, really deep and shit. To a place you don't even know exists, and you kind of forget about it until they move the needle.”

  
  


“You're philosophical as fuck tonight,” Roman mumbled, rolling over to face him. “Maybe your balls just hurt because of all the...over use,” he said, gesturing weakly with the hand that was not trapped beneath him. “Or hormones or some shit.”

  
  


“Are you just trying to tell me you don't wanna fuck me anymore?” Peter asked, though there was no malice behind this and it was more light hearted than anything.

  
  


“That could not be further from the truth,” Roman responded with the same tone, “But I am...really fucking tired. I think I used up my entire sperm reserve for the year in the last few days.”

  
  


“Gross,” Peter remarked, “Sorry, though. I know it makes you tired, you should sleep.”

  
  


“That's what I was trying to do before you woke up, but at this point I'll probably just have to get up in an hour anyway so maybe I should just get up and start driving again.”

  
  


“It's only midnight,” Peter remarked as he looked at the phone lying next to him.

  
  


“I have a bad feeling... I don't want to spend too much time in one spot like this, especially just in the van.”

  
  


“Then let me drive,” Peter responded.

  
  


“Do you have any idea where you're going?”

  
  


“I don't...but neither do you.”

  
  


“Alright, go on then...” Roman mumbled, scrambling around beside him to find his own clothes, pulling them on despite the fact that he probably shouldn't sleep in them. He was only half dressed, shirt pulled on one arm and his torso as he watched Peter do the same. Scrabbling around stark naked looking for his pants, and it was not was not as though Peter had been shy about nudity in the first place but Roman, for a moment, found it odd. To watch him dress hastily and climb into the front seat, with the realization of how odd their life had become. How normal it seemed to Roman until he thought on it, to be lying naked in the back of a van after bottoming for a guy for the third time. Because this had been the third time. A _guy._

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


Roman couldn't honestly say with certainty that he had been completely straight up until this point. He had never really thought about being gay, or showing too much interest in men. He'd gotten blowjobs from guys before and it had honestly bored him, so he spent much more company in the time of women. Women were pretty, soft and smelled sweet like perfume. Soft lips, soft tits, soft cunt. Men were...rougher, and he had not been that interested in most. But Peter was a special kind of other. An other he knew he loved and would do anything for, including lying on his back for him and letting him use him for the moment. Not something he ever would have considered allowing to happen in his life time, had Peter not come along. It was not something he craved very much as it still felt kind of weird despite the fact that he enjoyed it, but it kind of gave Peter a power trip and he liked that.

  
  


  
  


It was all of this normalcy that Roman found so completely strange. How this was nothing new to him now, and yet it should feel new. It should feel strange, having a kid with a guy who was your best and probably only friend. Roman fell asleep thinking of this, still only half dressed and sprawled across the bed, tangled in blankets and barely moving as the van took off. The dreams he had that night bordered on embarrassing. Stupidly embarrassing. The kind of shit that, even knowing his feelings for Peter, was just too goddamn far. He was in his own home, dressed suit and tie like he usually did to head to work. Heading downstairs he found Peter in the kitchen cooking...something, he wasn't really sure. Nadia was sitting in a highchair and the kitchen table, quietly cooing to herself.

  
  


  
  


He crept up behind him, gripping his hips and dragging him back into his embrace, burying his face in the crook of his neck. His fingers slipped forward and though he didn't really feel much there was the general knowledge that even here he was still pregnant. But as Peter did in reality, he elbowed him in the ribs and told him to fuck off, which Roman did but not before sucking a deep mark on the side of his neck that he could show to all the neighbors. Not that he had any, but if he did...

  
  


“Your child is in the room, fucker.” Peter said.

  
  


“It's not like she knows what's going on, besides, I didn't do anything.”

  
  


“She might not be able to speak but she can spell her own name,” Peter said, turning around and leaning up against the counter to give him an incredulous look.

  
  


“Don't you think she'll need to learn where her sister came from one day?”

  
  


“What makes you so sure it's a girl?”

  
  


“'Cause you're always acting like one,” Roman chided.

  
  


“Fuck off, you have work don't you?”

  
  


“I'm the boss, what are they gonna do if I come in late?”

  
  


“Fire you just to spite you.”

  
  


“Fine, I'm leaving,” Roman said in a tone that was somewhat annoyed. As he turned to leave Peter grabbed him by the tie, pulling him forward and kissing him in a way that was not exactly G rated, despite what he had said earlier.

  
  


“Look what you did...” Roman said, straightening the tie Peter had messed up by grabbing it as he pulled away. “Fucked up a perfectly good tie. Maybe I need to teach you a lesson.”

  
  


“A lesson?” Peter said, letting out a soft chuckle and making the mistake of turning his back on Roman to go back to what he was doing. Roman smacked him on the ass so hard, had he had neighbors, they probably would have heard it. Peter let out a sort of shocked squeak but had no time to chastise him as Roman was already heading off, laughing at him, as he made a pit stop at the bathroom. As he was about to leave he noticed that the sudden silence as he shut the water off. It was eerie, unnatural... It gave him a sense of anxiety that sent him rushing out into the house in a desperate attempt to find his daughter and ...whatever Peter was. Surely, they would be there. Why wouldn't they be?

  
  


  
  


But his house was empty. It was not just empty, it was still. The door was open, a light fog surrounding the area and a complete lack of life was now all that this house held. There was no evidence that anyone had been here moments ago. It was cold, it was quiet, and the air was so still it was like time had stopped. Terrified, Roman searched the rest of the house in such a state of distress that each time he called Peter's name it turned more nonsensical and into a sob of anguish. In this moment Roman felt more alone than he ever had been, and though he was used to being alone, this terrified him. He felt like his whole world was collapsing on him, his body feeling heavy, his chest tight like some black hole had opened up inside of it and was sucking in everything. He couldn't breathe...no air came and he struggled, fighting against the pressure until finally he gasped hard.

  
  


Breathing heavily he looked at his surroundings and found himself in darkness, the pale white metal ceiling above him and the warmth of a body next to him. Warmth, companionship, he wasn't alone. Thank God he wasn't alone. His phone told him it was 2:30 a.m. Had any of this really happened? Peter said he was going to drive the last time he spoke, and Roman was still haphazardly dressed. Maybe Peter had given up half way through and realized how tired he was, pulled off somewhere and went back to sleep. But why was _he_ naked?

  
  


He relished in his warmth despite the fact that it all seemed so strange, blowing a clump of hair out of his face that had made its way there. Peter's hair had become so unruly lately, growing out into a shaggy tangle rather than length a lot of length. He absentmindedly ran his hand through it, getting stuck on about a hundred tangles it felt like but Peter was dead to the world. Very much alive, but not in terms of being conscious. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the frigid air and exhaling slowly. Everything was good, all was well, but it was very cold. Way colder than Roman remembered it being seconds ago. He opened his eyes once again to find something that made his heart drop; he was alone. He was completely alone in this van just like he had been in the dream. That soul crushing weight bore down on his lungs again and he shot up, gasping. The light of day flooding his eyes.

  
  


  
  


It was cold but he was slicked with sweat, clutching at the fabric of his shirt and tangled tightly in the blankets. Everything felt too constricting and he didn't know where he was. He managed to slip the shirt on the rest of the way and his pants as he surveyed the area. He was beginning to think he was in some strange Hell, for this van too was empty. But something felt more _real_ about this. It was on the side of the road, door to the drivers side open and a thick fog bringing the cold with it. Almost permeating the inside of the van. Did he make a wrong turn into fucking Silent Hill? Except Roman wasn't looking for a missing kid. The crushing on his lungs returned but this time he didn't awake, gasping for breath. He breathed, though it was hard. He breathed in real air, and the reality that for some reason, Peter was missing. He was missing and he'd been warned twice now about it.

  
  


  
  


Throwing caution to the wind he slipped on only his shoes, fleeing into the cold and calling out his name into the silent air. There was no sign of him, but there were signs of a scuffle near the van. How had he not woken? He'd been in trouble and Roman had slept through it... He paced in the area for a moment, though he wasn't quite sure what this would help. He felt like his mind was about to shut down from stress and he had to do all he could to make sure it kept working. But after a moment it finally snapped, stopped and he found himself sinking to his knees, head in his hands as his nails dug into his scalp, leaning against the van. He felt so weak, so powerless. He knew he needed to get up and run, find out what the fuck happened but he just couldn't. God, he should have been better than this. Sitting there like a child, scared and confused and broken. He should have been strong...

_I should have been stronger for you._

  
  


Words that always seemed to ring true. No matter how many times Roman thought he had a good grasp on things, he found it slipping from his fingers. He had more money than most and the power of something immortal and ancient. Physically, he was strong but Roman found himself so many times to be weak. How he _hated_ it. He hated it and he thought briefly back to his mother. Not to how she had kept him weak, no...how she herself had felt. That was not true, she had sought out to make him strong, because weakness in her eyes was perhaps something she had experienced and tried to forever extinguish from her life. She tried to make him strong, she had failed at this too. For only a brief moment he felt the tiniest shred of pity for her. Olivia sought power through disgusting and immoral means and yet there she had sat for so long in grandeur, no longer weak, grooming him to be the same. And yet...he had betrayed her, but had good reason for doing so. She was a royal cunt, and yet...he almost understood. Because in her own way, Roman knew she loved him. Loved him more than a mother should ever love her son. And what was the point of having power if it couldn't help the ones you loved?

  
  


  
  


There was a sick and twisting vine in his stomach; a growing darkness sprouting fruits of doubt and melancholy, that if he lived long enough to see it that he may end up turning into something as awful as her. At this moment he felt he would do anything to bring Peter back. Nadia too, of course, but Peter...that was the last straw. He would kill for him in an instant if he needed to. He hated that he thought that he could do this if it meant finding him, but it was true. But first he had to actually _find_ him. Be strong, destroy anyone in your way, forget about what it fucking means...Just get up.

  
  


  
  


He distantly heard a crackling noise from somewhere in the vicinity, but he was still having time trying to get his brain to work for a moment. That crackling turned into a gentle touch on his shoulder, and for one split second he felt elation that Peter had somehow returned, to find him here like a sniveling child and laugh at him for doing it. And fuck if he wouldn't just let him...But it wasn't. He peered up into purple, gold and brown. Lana... Immediately his brain switched to the defense.

  
  


“Did you do this?” Roman asked, voice wavering between fear, anger and the tears that he tried to hold back. “Did you take him from me?!”

  
  


“I have no clue what you're talking about,” she said dryly, though her face held an inkling of concern on it.

  
  


“Peter...” he choked out, taking in shaky breaths as he tried to form the words to speak to her. “He disappears and you show up? Do you know how that looks?”

  
  


“Your little werewolf friend?” Lana asked as she knelt down beside him. “I promise you I had nothing to do with this. I just saw you here on the side of the road...”

  
  


“Oh, you just _saw_ me, huh? How the fuck did you find me? And what was that shit about keeping in touch, and then you just take off?”

  
  


“I just figured we'd run into each other again. Not like this, though.”

  
  


Roman resolved here and now to finally stand, a determination finally sparking in his innards at the anger he felt from this murderous upir girl who was honestly probably just concerned, but he only felt suspicious.

  
  


“Look, I don't have time for you, or whatever cryptic bullshit you're probably going to tell me about dead, crazy upirs. I have to find him...”

  
  


“Let me help you, uh...you know, I never got your name.” Lana said, standing to lean against the van.

  
  


“Roman,” he breathed out, cursing silently to himself after he did. “But I probably shouldn't have told you that.”

  
  


“Roman,” Lana said, gripping him by the shoulders, “Calm _down._ ” She ran her hand down one arm until it fell to her side, with one hand still gripping his shoulders. “What can you tell me?” At this moment, for some reason Roman felt such a sense of calm rush over him, like it was a command. Something he _had_ to follow.

  
  


“He told me to go sleep, said he was going to drive. I woke up to find him gone, like this. The door was open and...that's it.” As he spoke his voice came out oddly flat, and for a moment he was having trouble understanding why until he watched as blood ran down from Lana's nose. It seemed to have broken her hold and he scowled at her “Seriously?”

  
  


“It worked, didn't it?” she asked, pulling away from him and examining the ground beneath them. She ran her boot along the grass and she seemed to know what she was doing.

  
  


“He was sick,” Lana said finally. “I'm assuming. It's faint but the ground here next to the van is wet, but slick in the way something might be if it were mostly bile. He stepped away for a moment, probably to lean against the van and get fresh air. But there's no more footprints,” she said, gesturing to a series of boot prints by the van. She narrowed her eyes slightly as she moved. “No, there are. It's just not _his_.” She followed a trial that Roman couldn't see, or had not noticed at least. “The grass here is damaged. It's all broken, flattened...Something was dragged, by a woman it seems. They're boot prints but delicate. Smaller. She dug into the ground as she walked, and dragged.”

  
  


“How do you know all this...?” Roman asked dumbfounded, trying to see what she saw.

  
  


“Sometimes prey gets tipped off, and since it's our main food source...we learned to track.”

  
  


“We...the other woman. Where is she?”

  
  


“Napping in the car,” she said gesturing behind her to a car parked a ways back. Lana stepped forward some, into the grass that lead deep into the trees. Roman followed her before she stopped suddenly. “About here, there are no more scuff marks, but there are two sets of foot prints. Different shoe sizes and make, someone else came to help her. They must have carried him off somewhere...”

  
  


“Can you track them?” Roman asked desperately.

  
  


“I'm almost certain I can, but I can tell you we are probably walking into a trap. It's clear there isn't just one person. We might run into a whole crew.”

  
  


“Fuck them,” Roman spat. “I don't give a shit how many there are.”

  
  


“You think you can take them?”

  
  


“Yeah...Can you?”

  
  


“Probably. Come on.”

  
  


  
  


Lana had been far more right than anyone could have anticipated; she truly was a good tracker. Peter had been driving backroads since midnight to try to avoid being spotted by anyone who might find them. Same shit, different day. Life probably would seem strange after this all passed, to not be on the road constantly, because that's all they did. Fucking ran. Peter had always run but it had never actually been this dangerous, not like this... He felt both exhausted and completely wired at the moment, because the more he sat there, the more the pain presented itself. It was to the point where it radiated, burrowing up into his stomach and hurting everything. To the point that it was truly making him feel ill. He seemed to have sort of moved passed morning sickness, but he knew it could never truly be gone. That it would stick around for some time until he was finally done with this bullshit. But by this point he knew the tell-tale signs of impending vomit and weighed his options. There was a trash can in the back, but it meant climbing into the back, over Roman, and hopefully making it there in time. Then there was the door. He could stop and just get out a lot easier than climbing into the back.

  
  


  
  


  
  


He eased off onto the side of the road, throwing the door open as he did so and stumbling out into the frigid air, masked by the thick fog and making this disgusting act perhaps more concealed by it. The shift in position did not help things for the throbbing pain between his legs and he felt like he was either sweating only in this area or it was something else, because his legs felt somewhat slick and sticky. This would have to be looked at, but he was honestly terrified at what he was going to find down there. He stumbled forward slightly as his stomach stopped rebelling and leaned against the side of the van, taking in deep breaths of the air that froze his lungs from the inside. Was he really about to stand here and grope himself on the side of the road? No, he shouldn't, he should probably be in the van for that, but sitting probably made things worse. He hadn't noticed it until he moved, so...

  
  


He thanked whatever God had decided to cover this area in fog and undid his belt and zipper to unceremoniously fondle himself in the middle of goddamn nowhere, halfway in public and feeling absolutely ridiculous. He did not find what he was looking for quite as easily as he'd thought, other than it just felt fucking _weird_ , and...wet somehow. He pulled his hand away in preparation to find nothing, but his life had not ever been that easy. Because instead of finding what he thought was sweat he found tinges of pinkish red smeared along his fingertips, so now he knew that this was blood and not sweat...but he had no idea where it was coming from. The first time he figured it out pretty quickly but this...He had to figure this out, and this probably involved him waking Roman up and making him worry more than he should.

  
  


  
  


As he was about to turn he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his neck, sudden and quick. Had something...bitten him? No...something worse. There was something _in_ his neck and he was very quickly losing feeling in his limbs. He made a final attempt to drag himself to the van but before he could move at all his legs collapsed beneath him. He was awake, fully conscious, but paralyzed... As such so were his vocal chords. He could not scream, call for help, or curse out whatever bitch had shot him. He could only move his eyes to see, through the hazy blur, leather clad boots moving towards him, grabbing him under the arms and dragging. Dark skin, manicured nails. It was a woman and she was _strong_. Carrying dead weight like she was...

  
  


  
  


Peter didn't know how long he'd been dragged before suddenly someone was grabbing him by the legs, then supporting him beneath his knees. He had no idea where he was being taken but the presence of trees indicated they were now deeper in the forest.

  
  


“You want me to go get the van?” a male voice asked.

  
  


“Give it a minute,” the female responded. “I have no doubt his boytoy's going to come looking for him. Why not take out two birds with one stone? I'll get the van. But I want to have a talk with this one first.” Her voice was confident, deep and smooth. A hint of sharpness on the edges, and a bit of an accentual twang to it. It was almost as though the letters were drawn out, and though she did not speak slowly the way her voice came out it almost sounded like it.

  
  


“You know he's not going to be able to talk back.”

  
  


“That's fine, he can still listen.”

  
  


  
  


Peter thought he might have passed out for a second because he was suddenly sitting in a chair, in the most Deliverance looking shed. It seemed that's all it was, as with what limited view he had it seemed the windows showed only trees. No, not windows. Holes where windows once were, marred by shattered glass and dirt. Dirt and dust was everywhere, and about the only thing in this shed other than the chair was a table. However he only got a very brief look, his body giving out seconds later and slumping forward until a hand pushed him back against the chair.

  
  


“Hi there sleeping beauty,” the woman said, a smirk on her lips. The first time Peter really got a good look at her. Dark skinned with eyes so black there barely any difference between her iris and her pupil, matching the smokey look of black shadow and eyeliner that surrounded them. Her head was shaved on both sides, a fringe forming bangs down one side of her face, with long hair that trailed down her back. Though some of that hair had been pulled into several very tight braids secured with beads. Both of her ears were pierced to the excess, and her nose bore something similar. She wore what looked like a kind of pleather leggings, a dark shirt that had bits of silver lines running alone it and ended in a sort of frilly pastel thing, and a black jacket that didn't do all that much to cover the lower half. He caught sight of a man leaving just before he did, noting that he was far better dressed for this. He was wondering if everyone outside of his circle just didn't know how to dress in cold weather. Though on the table he did spy a much heavier coat, perhaps she'd taken it off.

  
  


  
  


“Well, not sleeping beauty, I guess. Paralyzed beauty.”

  
  


He was powerless to speak to her as the man had said. But he could begin to feel the effects wearing off, far faster than she had probably anticipated. He was beginning to feel the presence of his own limbs, slowly, as a tingle that traveled up their length. He tried to speak to her, but his vocal chords refused to cooperate. He was able to glare at her though the best he could.

  
  


“You're so cute,” she said mockingly.

 

“You gonna monologue now, Trinity?” came a voice from outside.

  
  


“Fuck yeah I'm gonna monologue. I've been chasing this asshole for months, he's going to listen to me.” Trinity, apparently, gripped him by the side of the face and forced him to look up. “Boy oh boy, have I been stalking you for a long time. You aren't nearly as good as hiding as you think you are. Those backroad trips, motel and hotel stops, moving constantly? I've always known where you were. But there's this...inconvenient little rule in The Order that you're only supposed to strike when you've changed. Took a minute to realize but...you aren't going to change, are you?” She laughed at him slightly and let him go, pushing him back against the chair as she paced the room and spoke. “But don't worry. They don't want you dead, see...that's why it's been so hard. I'm not trying to kill you, I'm trying to catch you. My current vehicle doesn't have very good passenger space. They tell me I need to get something better but no way in hell they're taking away my bike. They're desperate, they wouldn't have chosen someone like me if they weren't.”

  
  


“You're really bad about keeping secrets,” the man said from the doorway.

  
  


“Who cares? When I get him back to base it won't matter anyway. Nothing he can do from there.”

  
  


“You're too confident for your own good.”

  
  


“I'm not confident, not really. If he gets away, well...that's just the thrill of the chase all over again.”

  
  


“You really are a psycho,” he mumbled.

  
  


“Don't pretend you don't like killing them.”

  
  


“Because they're an affront to everything we stand for, not for the sake of killing.”

  
  


“They're not only a threat to the Order but humanity. The more bullets I put in them, the better. Less of a chance someone gets eaten. And upirs...they'll be on their way out soon, anyway too. It's a shame it wasn't us who figured out how to get them to turn crazy.”

  
  


She turned back to him, edging far too close, and Peter was beginning to feel his limbs much better. He felt somewhat weak but he was confident that soon he would be able to move. He had to bide his time and save his energy to try to take her out. But then he'd have to deal with the guards, too... What choice did he have? He could hope that Roman would find him but he couldn't rely on Roman alone.

  
  


“Don't worry, though. You'll be safe for a while. The Order ...well, despite the fact that they dabble with the laws of “The Lord,” she said, the last part mocking, “They like to keep some enemies close. Don't know what they want exactly with that kid but hey, you'll be safe until it's born. Isn't that nice? A nice bed, you won't be on the road. We'll feed you, give you a shower...slit your throat as you turn and cut off your head, throw you into a hole six foot deep...” she said, and she gripped his face again but more gently this time, “Don't you want to stop running?”

  
  


Using the energy he'd reserved, Peter turned his head suddenly and bit her hand, pushing himself forward and tackling her to the ground as she recoiled in pain and confusion. He could see red laser sights pointed at every inch of him as he held her down, albeit weakly.

  
  


“Stand down!” she yelled, flipping him over before they even got the chance to think about shooting. She held him down the same way he had her, and smirked at him, letting out a bark of a laugh before speaking. “Guess those darts don't work so well on you.” She stood off him long enough to brush her coat aside from the table, grabbing a length of rope that had been hidden beneath it and hauling him to his feet long enough to shove him back into the chair. Fighting was useless as his limbs still felt like jelly and she overpowered him easily, tying his wrists behind his back. There would be no trickery to cut the ropes this time.

  
  


“When I get free...I am going to personally make sure you die slowly.” Peter threatened.

  
  


“Cute...Like you're getting free,” Trinity said, pushing the chair roughly so that it collided with the wall behind it. She said nothing else to him and headed off towards the exit. “If you see the Godfrey kid, shoot on sight. He's only one guy. Just make sure you've got the heparin bullets in and aim for the head, then take the heart.”

  
  


“We know how to kill them,”

“Good. Then why is it I had to save you from that rabid upir? Sure didn't seem like you knew what you were doing.”

  
  


“Go get the damn van!”

  
  


  
  


  
  


And so it had been a good while as Trinity rode off on her motorcycle, offroad and deeper where they'd parked a van. Around the time that Roman had woken to find Peter missing, and the time Lana showed up. They'd followed the trail for some time, getting momentarily sidetracked by the different set of tracks Trinity had taken to leave, but Lana noticed soon after they seemed fresher and the set of singular tire tracks nearby. After a moment they followed them to the shed, seeing it in the distance behind the trees.

  
  


“There are two of them it looks like...Yes, two. Pretty shitty security...I have a plan. I'll distract one of them, you come for the other. You think you can do that?”

  
  


“Yes,” Roman said, watching as she suddenly bit down on her palm with enough force to draw a substantial amount of blood. She wiped it down her shirt, her neck, her face ...anything that looked like it could be an injury, she created it. She headed away from the bush, towards the main path and began panting heavily and breaking into a stumbling run.

  
  


“Help!” she screamed, gasping and falling to her knees in front of the two guards. Roman made his way around the side, sticking to bushes and trees to conceal himself. “There's been an accident, my friend hit a tree...and she's not waking up!”

  
  


“Calm down miss,” the men said, one of them kneeling down and attempting to check her 'injuries'. She shied away, gripping her face which only made more blood drip down from it.

  
  


“I need your cellphone, please she's hurt!” Roman was beginning to see how easily she managed to kill her victims... It seemed as good a time as ever to strike as both of them were focused on Lana. He rushed up behind one of them, throwing himself at him practically and sinking his teeth into the man's jugular. He screamed a gurgling, choking screech and alerted the other man to his plight. It was far too late, as Lana's acting immediately faded and she grabbed him by the shoulder and did the same. Dragging him further onto the ground and keeping her mouth on his neck.

  
  


  
  


For a moment Roman had a hard time pulling himself away. The rush of blood in his mouth, feeling so fucking euphoric. He wanted to just feed. What was he here for, in the first place? Food seemed like the most likely cause. A copper ambrosia, he felt starved. It wasn't until Lana roughly shook him by the shoulders that he remembered.

  
  


“Come on, we have to do this quick,” she hissed. She had no way of knowing who else was inside but it seemed relatively quiet. Roman tore himself away from the now nearly drained corpse, running his sleeve along his face and staining it to hell, but he didn't really care. The two of them headed inside to find it empty...except for Peter who was tied to the chair.

  
  


“Jesus fuck,” Roman sighed with relief.

  
  


“My night in shining armor,” Peter said sarcastically. “I could've used this back when I was being dragged away from the van.”

  
  


Roman didn't respond other than to get behind the chair and try to untie the ropes but the knots were tight and he was failing. Lana, luckily, carried a knife on her person and was able to cut them quite easily. The minute she did Peter pulled his arms forward and rolled his shoulders until they made an unpleasant popping noise.

  
  


“Can you walk?” Roman asked, and Lana stood silent and watched the two of them, waiting if they should need her.

  
  


“I'm not sure...They shot me with some kind of dart but it's wearing off. I think...something is really wrong with me, though. I'm kind of afraid what might happen if I stand up. I need you to be prepared to help me.”

  
  


“What? What do you mean?” Roman asked nervously.

  
  


“Guys, we have to get going, so hurry this up,” Lana said.

  
  


“That pain from last night, the one I was telling you about...it's a lot worse.”

  
  


“I'll carry you if I have to, but we've got to go,” Roman said, bending down to put an arm around his back and beneath one of Peter's. He hauled him up, and Peter took about two steps before Roman really was beginning to take this pain of his seriously. He felt his body tense up, and he gave a sharp intake of breath, and then there was the fucking sound, and everything that came with it. An incredibly wet sounding tearing noise, the sound of liquid hitting the floor and the smell of blood. Peter hit the ground faster than he registered but at the last moment he was able to bend down with him and soften some of the blow. The liquid in question seemed to be the copious amount of blood that was spilling down his jeans.

  
  


  
  


Of course, Peter had known. Had a feeling something horrible was going to happen when he stood up and he was right. Something between his legs had just violently ripped open and he couldn't quite tell what was happening other than the blinding white pain that was radiating through the whole area. Everything felt _wrong_ , and he could feel not just blood but skin, like it had burnt, was sloughing off down his thighs. From the minute he hit the floor he really had to fight not to shove his hands between his legs to try to cope with the pain but he felt like if he touched anything down there it might make it worse. His breath was caught somewhere in his throat, and his lungs tried so hard to scream but they constricted so tightly he couldn't. But somewhere he found his voice, and his breath, and he let out a wounded sounding low, wavering groan.

  
  


  
  


There was a moment where everything seemed far to still, like no one knew what was happening or what the fuck to do, but it was Peter who broke that spell. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind and attempted to at least crawl forward but he found that this didn't help his pain at all.

  
  


“We have to get out of here,” he said, though his lungs constricted on every word. “She's coming back, we have to go.”

  
  


“Can you walk?” Lana asked, as Roman still seemed to be trying to process this.

  
  


“No.”

  
  


“Okay,” Roman said, letting out a shaky breath and sliding his arms beneath Peter's legs. “You ready for me to do this?”

  
  


“No,” Peter said again, letting out a breath of his own, “But do it anyway.”

  
  


  
  


Roman picked him up in one fluid motion, and it seemed maybe it was worse than doing it slowly. It _hurt_ , it hurt a lot. That white hot pain that shot through his insides again and he bit down on the edge of Roman's shirt and used it to muffle the low scream he let out.

“Mother _fucker_ , fucking... _cunt_ , fuck you that hurt,” Peter said into the fabric. “Go!”

  
  


  
  


Things were far less quiet and calculated, and it turned into a sort of blind run through the woods until they came upon the road again, and Peter felt every single step. Roman threw open the back doors as quickly as he could and set him down on the mattress, knowing full well these sheets would have to be destroyed.

  
  


“You can't stick around here, Roman,” Lana said as she stood at the entry.

  
  


“I, uh...fuck. You're right, but I can't fucking drive like this.”

  
  


“Let me drive,” Lana said insistently. “You know I'm not one of them, I just saved both of your asses.”

  
  


Roman didn't retort and threw Lana the keys, but before she climbed in she ran back to her own car. The conversation was muffled but after a few moments Cassidy pulled away from the road and sped off. Lana went to shut the back of the van before Peter stopped her.

  
  


“Wait!” he protested, choking back a pained gasp as he spoke. “She said to me...she said that she's known where we were, the whole time. If we drive off now she'll just find us again.”

  
  


“I bet she's bugged you,” Lana said, searching the parameter of the vehicle. She found nothing at first, until she got onto her belly and peered beneath it. They watched her disappear beneath the back of the van before re-emerging with an object that blinked off and on. She immediately threw it to the ground and crushed it beneath her boot, finally shutting the door and climbing into the front. It took her a few moments to figure out the controls but she soon sped off.

  
  


  
  


“What's wrong with him?” Lana called back, to which Roman merely replied nervously, “Fuck if I know,”

  
  


He looked nervous and Peter could almost read his thoughts before he spoke, and he spoke in a way that really danced around the subject if this was a miscarriage or something else.

  
  


“It's fine, I think,” Peter said through the clenching around his lungs. “It feels like someone took a fucking lawnmower to my crotch.”

  
  


Once again Roman appeared to be weighing his options, sort of nervously running a hand along the somewhat blood soaked fabric of the jeans that covered his shin. Because it had, of course, traveled that far by now.

  
  


“You know I'm going to have to look, I can't do anything for you if I don't.”

  
  


“I know...just be careful, please.”

  
  


  
  


Of course, Roman was fucking terrified. On the verge of completely shutting down. His silence was was perhaps evidence of this, and he couldn't quite find a way to form words. He was almost afraid to look, honestly. What the fuck was he going to find? He started with unbuckling his belt, then the buttons and zipper, pulling them down gingerly with the thought that usually this would mean something very different but Roman was just afraid, not aroused. They stuck to the bloodied skin; wet things always harder to remove. The smell was overpoweringly copper, causing a mix of both mild hunger and disgust. It was hard to tell what was underneath his boxer briefs as he removed the pants, noting some slick trails of what was almost like a mucous membrane of flesh down his thighs. He had worn dark underwear that day; a sort of navy that had turned jet black in places now.

  
  


Apparently trying to take them off hurt. Peter's body tensed as he started moving them down, letting out a low muffled groan behind the fist he was biting into. It got worse the further down they got, and Roman was beginning to find more amiss without even looking at him yet. There was so much blood that Roman had no idea what was going on down there but there were strings of...something, skin, mucous..? that seemed to bridge from him and the cloth, and they snapped and each one seemed to send a stab of pain up his spine. By the time they were off, Peter was shaking somewhat, trying to catch his breath and gripping the sheets so tight that Roman was worried he was going to snap one of his nails off in the process. At this point he didn't even think that it would phase him.

  
  


  
  


As he guided his legs apart Peter seemed to fight him every step of the way, and the more he did the more he could see why. Roman, at first, had no clue what he was actually looking at. There was such a feeling of _wrongness_ that his brain couldn't even wrap around it at first. It didn't help that it was sort of dark, so he grabbed his cellphone and turned on the flashlight to look. Even with the amalgamation of gore and horror still preventing him from really seeing what was happening, Roman could feel bile rising in the back of his throat just by looking, and had to swallow heavily to push it back down. There was a massive gash between his legs, like flesh ripped away, melted and turning viscous like liquid, clinging to everything and keeping the opening somewhat closed and hard to see into.

  
  


With the shift in position, and the skin being pulled apart, the strands of liquid flesh snapped like the rest had, and he heard Peter let out a hiss of pain followed by a sharp groan. But with this new clearness he realized that where there _should_ be any semblance of scrotal flesh there was none. He remembered Peter telling him about the pain he was having the night before, and once again he was feeling guilty. He should have listened, he shouldn't have tried to sleep, to keep a better eye on this. They would've been more prepared. They wouldn't be running from the kidnappers of The Order with an upir girl they barely knew driving them to safety, fucking bleeding out in the back of the van. It could not have helped that this happened the way it did.

  
  


As much as Roman found the prospect of gore appetizing, this was something he truly never wanted to see. Because he was staring at someone's testes outside of their body and it was completely fucked. Thin membranes and muscle, veins and just ..so much fucking meat. It went so deep. Deep enough that if he looked towards the bottom he could see the fleshy, rope-like structure that was probably part of his intestines. It made it worse that this was Peter and in a round about way this was his fault. He turned his head to the side just enough to avoid vomiting on him, though it was mostly bile as Roman really didn't eat nearly as much as a normal human.

  
  


“What the _fuck_?” Peter asked, offense and confusion in is tone as he bent his knees slightly to get away from Roman as much as he could. At first he did not respond, only grabbed the already destroyed pair of jeans and pushed it between his legs, telling Peter briefly to hold them there. He did, but it seemed to hurt. Roman didn't blame him.

  
  


“Is it really that bad?”

  
  


“How the _fuck_ are you still conscious?” Roman asked instead of answering his question. “Does that not ...I mean I know it hurts, but...Jesus fuck.”

  
  


“What the fuck did you see down there?”

  
  


“Way too much!” Roman retorted. “God, I don't know what the fuck is happening but it's...really fucked up. Do you really want to know?”

  
  


“Don't you think I have the right to?”

  
  


Roman let out a breath, pushing the hair that had fallen in his face nervously, finding it soon sticky with blood because his hands were soaked. “You have this...really, really deep wound.”

  
  


“Wow, I thought I was just bleeding from thin fucking air,” Peter ground out, “Fucking tell me.”

  
  


“Everything under your fucking dick is just...Gone. You have no skin, it's just ripped open and melted.”

  
  


“Are you telling me I somehow _lost_ my fucking balls?” Peter asked, his voice rising an octave in disbelief and fear.

  
  


“No, they're there... I mean, the organ, not the skin. They're just...out. Like everything else. I think I can see your fucking guts, it's that deep.”

  
  


The noise Peter made then cut him deep. Like some kind of frantic and hopeless cry, caught between despair and fear.

  
  


“I'm so sorry,” Roman said almost as hopeless. “Fuck me, I don't know what to do...I don't know how to fix this.”

  
  


“This has to be happening for a reason,” Peter reasoned. “I mean, you don't just...get your crotch ripped open for nothing.”

  
  


“I know,” Roman replied, his voice still wavering with so many emotions he couldn't even pick one. But one emotion finally emerged from his brain victorious; a sort of a-ha feeling. Surprise, perhaps, something like that. Somehow this was starting to make sense, but in a way, it made none. “It's..probably the,” he paused, looking towards Lana who was still driving but seemed to be sort of listening to the two of them. “The thing...”

  
  


“The _what_?” Peter asked, annoyed and still in agony.

  
  


“The thing that's...not supposed to be open right now, why the _fuck_ is it open after a few months.”

  
  


“Seriously?” he replied, this time more confused than annoyed, “I don't know, I...It doesn't feel like anything's wrong.”

  
  


“Did Destiny happen to tell you anything about how this works?

  
  


“She just told me that it opens, not when...or how. But I can't imagine it stays like this. Fucking kill me if it doesn't close, I can't keep going like this for months. I'll get an infection before that happens.”

  
  


“It's not gonna stay like this,” Roman assured, but he was only about fifty percent sure he was right. He figured Destiny would have said something if Peter was supposed to give birth through an open, gaping wound. No, that was just stupid. The muscles just couldn't function like that. It would need to rebuild itself almost to do so. He just had to hope that's what happened.

  
  


He was taken aback by a sudden pained and shocked groan and found Peter gripping somewhat hard at the jeans between his legs. He shifted his hips upward in some kind of attempt to get comfortable it seemed like, but something seemed to be amiss.

  
  


“What is it?”

  
  


“I don't know...Something just feels really fucking _wrong._ I-,” he was cut off by a sudden cry of pain and the sound of a sickening crack from somewhere deep in his body. He sucked in air through clenched teeth and tried to move his lower half but the mere concept seemed to be causing him pain. But then it seemed as though it wasn't just pain but he physically could not move. As he did so the sound of hollow pops and grinding noises filled the air and he stilled himself. He took in deep panting breaths that seemed as much from pain as from fear.

  
  


  
  


Roman was at a loss for words. What could he even say at this point? What could he ask? He almost found this similar to the first time he had seen him change. But Roman had been a different person, then. He had the fascination of something magical, like a wide-eyed child getting a glimpse into the supernatural. It was horrifying, and it was beautiful. But this was just horrifying. He was deeply afraid for Peter because none of them had no idea what was happening, other than something was breaking inside of him somewhere and he just hoped it could be fixed.

  
  


  
  


There was one final, horrible cracking noise before suddenly the air seemed far too still, and Peter let out a deep sigh and then was mostly silent. He breathed still, was awake, but seemed to be in shock. He finally moved again. Not only did he move but brought himself to a kneeling position, spreading his legs slightly like he was testing them. Like something was different, new, like he didn't quite know how to move.

  
  


  
  


Of course it was all new. To Peter, who had gone through that horrifying ordeal of feeling his own crotch ripped open and suddenly healing in ways that seemed very wrong. A sensation of pulling, shifting and the ache of muscle being stretched in ways it shouldn't. Like exercising for too long and feeling the burn of it, only it was all at once and it was intense. Then the horrible crack of his pelvis that he felt all the way up his spine. Straight down the middle, until it rearranged into something slightly wider but seemingly only on the inside. The upper half of his femur almost didn't seem to sit right. It was like he'd been given a different pelvis and he had no idea how to use it correctly.

  
  


“Jesus Christ, should you be sitting up?” Roman asked worriedly.

  
  


“I...I feel okay, I think. It feels really weird but it doesn't hurt. I can't exactly tell what's happening down there.”

  
  


“You know you're going to want to know eventually so we should just get this shit over with and let me tell you.”

  
  


  
  


Peter frowned, but Roman was right, and he sat back far enough to let him see before pulling the jeans away from himself and allowing Roman to try to look. He picked up the phone that had been discarded, still shining with the flashlight app before shining it back down. It made Peter feel pretty awkward, now that he wasn't in pain, but he had a point.

  
  


  
  


The scene down there was far less intrusive and horrible than it had been, but it was certainly bizarre. His anatomy had changed somewhat dramatically. Where there had been a massive gash there was now just a small opening. It was all closed over skin, though somewhat raw looking, and membrane on the inside. Not by any means a pussy but it seemed like the inside was made of the same kind of tissue. He had assumed the body had somehow reabsorbed the testes and wondered if it would cause any infertility in the longrun.

  
  


“You're still covered in blood but it's healed, I guess...There's still a hole but it looks more like it's supposed to be there now.” At this, Peter reached between his legs to try to examine what the fuck Roman was talking about, and for a moment he looked incredibly disheartened by it. He snapped out of it fairly quickly though and covered himself with his jeans again. “Are you okay?”

  
  


“Yeah, I just..really want a shower, I think.”

  
  


“There's a motel nearby if you want me to stop,” came the call from the front. Roman jumped, forgetting she had even been there.

  
  


“Do you think it's safe?” he asked.

  
  


“I've been driving like a bat out of hell and taking a lot of turns. Without that bug it will be a lot harder for you to find her. We've already passed a town and about four others branching off from where we're at.”

  
  


“I don't even care if she does find us at this point, I feel fucking gross,” Peter said.

  
  


Roman agreed and they were there within a good several minutes, stopping at a motel that was nearly at the edge of town so it seemed less obvious. After checking in, Peter hightailed it into the room, not bothering to dress but to grab the sheets from the bed. Ruined as they were, he couldn't make them any worse. Covered in blood, vomit and mucous. Before Roman joined him Lana grabbed him gently by the shoulder.

  
  


“You know that after all this, you kind of owe me an explanation.”

  
  


“I don't really,” Roman retaliated.

  
  


“I just saved your ass. Both of your asses. The shit that happened back there was _not_ normal in any sense of the word.”

  
  


  
  


Roman let out a muted groaning noise, pinching the bridge of his nose and preparing to punch himself for what he was about to tell her.

  
  


“So apparently werewolves have some kind of fucked up estrus. No one really knows about it, not even them. And apparently, _during_ this estrus, the body kind of doesn't give a fuck what gender you are and, well...shit happened. Mistakes were made, along with babies.”

  
  


“Oh...I suppose that explains the upir I was sensing on him,” Lana said. “Babies, seriously?”

  
  


“Well, just one but it's incredibly unpredictable. It's growing very fast and needs blood for nutrition...”

“So, what happened back there...” Lana said, trailing off.

  
  


“That's where the kid comes out of, I guess. Was a lot more brutal than I expected.”

  
  


Lana let out a sigh of both disbelief and exhaustion from the whole situation, despite the fact that she had only merely been driving but the situation was tiring for all parties. She took out her phone briefly and sent a quick text before turning back to him.

  
  


“You're going to need more help than I thought. Here...” she said, pulling a pen out of the pocket of her jeans and and grabbing Roman's hand to write a number on his palm. She seemed to at least respect his privacy enough not to do it herself. He thought back to Claire for a moment and wondered how she was doing, but put it out of his mind quickly enough as Lana spoke to him again. “Call me if you need help. If I'm nearby I'll try to find you, okay?”

  
  


Roman nodded and thanked her before she headed off down the street, he imagined to wait at the gas station for her ride. Now alone with his thoughts again he felt a sudden jolt of fear, remorse and gratefulness. Fucking Christ they'd found them. He thought they were safe, that they were one step ahead. He'd been so stupid and he'd almost lost Peter again because of it. Could he have really known, though? But even if the answer was clear, that this was no one's fault, Roman could not help but feel guilty.

  
  


  
  


As Roman had been talking to Lana outside, Peter wasted no time finding the shower. At first his only thought was getting clean, being covered in shit he shouldn't ever be covered in. But as he cleaned, and as his hand found its way between his legs to find something he'd had his entire life suddenly missing, a sense of despair started flooding into his stomach like it had before, after Roman had told him what he saw when he had healed. It was fucking stupid, worse things had happened to better people most likely. But he felt so _wrong_.

  
  


  
  


This feeling followed him until he made his way out of the shower, crawling into the bed undressed, as no one had brought any clothes in yet. It was still fairly early in the day but the ordeal left him exhausted, and he wanted to sleep to forget the entire situation. So much had happened...They weren't safe anymore, and he was fucking _missing_ a part of his body. For some reason this was really starting to effect him. He felt incomplete, changed in ways he wasn't comfortable with. Incredibly self conscious, the fear that someone would see him and they would _know_ something was wrong with him. He had gotten used to that before, already disliking the stares he got from strangers, thinking that somehow they'd see. Find out what he was and they'd be hunted like dogs. He lived with it and accepted it, but things had changed further than they ever had.

  
  


  
  


Eyes closed to the world, he had not realized Roman had entered, nor had he realized he'd come to stand by the bedside, place is hand upon his shoulder lightly. His eyes blurred as he opened them and he realized he'd been crying without even knowing it. That made it worse, made him feel even stupider. Why the fuck was he always crying over dumb shit? So then it turned into crying over crying. Of exhaustion, the need to just stop running, the need to stop randomly losing parts of his body. After a moment Roman ended up in the bed next to him, pulling half of him onto his lap so that he was laying against it. He was quiet, perhaps trying to give him space. But finally he did ask him if he was okay, and he let out some kind of laugh of despaired amusement.

  
  


“I'm tired of this...” he said, voice breaking as he spoke. “I'm tired of not ever knowing what life's going to throw at me to fuck me up. Of running, of crying all the time, of crying over...fucking crying, like an idiot. Of losing my goddamn body parts. She told me she was going to take me and keep me alive until I wasn't useful anymore. Fuck me, it was almost tempting. And I've never really been self conscious but I am now...”

  
  


“What happened to you...I don't know if it matters, but it doesn't change the way I feel about you, and I'm the only person who needs to know. You're still the same person and this is only temporary. All of this is temporary.”

  
  


“How is it that somehow you're doing better than I am?” Peter asked , sounding defeated “I've lived on the road before and somehow this is so much harder.”

  
  


“To be honest, I'm terrified half the time. When you disappeared I almost shut down. If Lana hadn't come along...”

  
  


Peter didn't respond to this, but rather questioned the last of Roman's statements. He half rolled over to look up at him, though he avoided his gaze almost meekly. A question was dancing on the tip of his tongue and begging to be set free, one he shouldn't ask because it might open more doors than he was comfortable with.

  
  


“How do you feel about me?”

  
  


“What are you going to do if I answer that question honestly?” Roman asked.

  
  


“It depends on how you answer,” Peter replied. He wasn't sure what he wanted to hear from Roman. Part of him wanted him to answer that it was still platonic, but there was something else in him that was craving something more. But Roman looked nervous and it was starting to make him nervous.

  
  


“I...I get fucking terrified when you're in danger, or that I'm going to lose you all the time. I hate it when you're not next to me...When you were gone today I started thinking about all the shit I might never get to tell you if I wouldn't have found you.” Something in his voice was nervous and frantic, like the night they had driven away, after the fight they'd had and the way Peter apologized and confessed the things he didn't quite understand about himself. He was half tempted to tell Roman to shut up, that he didn't want to know these things because maybe he wouldn't be able to live with them. But what if he couldn't live knowing Roman never told him what it was that he was afraid he wouldn't have been able to?

  
  


“I know it sounds weird but I think you're fucking beautiful, in every way and if I don't say this shit now I might never...Peter, I-,”

  
  


  
  


Whatever he was about to say was suddenly cut off by a ringing from Roman's pocket. He stopped, looking disheartened that he had been interrupted. Like maybe he didn't want to answer it, but he let out an annoyed sigh and pulled it from his pocket. Peter caught a glimpse of the word 'Pryce' lighting up on the display.

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


Far from nearly confessed declarations of love and feelings, a man was feeling neither of these things. Half clinging to life, throat shredded and bleeding out slowly by the minute. It was a miracle he was still alive. The woman who had attacked him had been preoccupied with getting her friend to stop killing the other man to have truly finished the job. But he knew he was done for, and in his final hours he used what time he had left to reflect on his family. His reflections were soon interrupted; Trinity had stepped up to him, kneeling down and frowning.

  
  


“There were two of them,” he choked out. “We didn't see it coming.” Trinity let out a disappointed hum, and he continued. “They got away.”

  
  


“I know,” she said with a voice that should have sounded genuinely sympathetic, but her tone was mocking. “ Just like I knew you wouldn't have been able to take him even if he was alone.”

  
  


“Then...” he choked, blood spilling from his lips. “Why did you leave?”

  
  


“So he could escape, of course.”

  
  


“What...?” he gasped out. “But your orders...”

  
  


“Orders, is that all that's important with you guys?”

  
  


“You...You wanted to chase him, didn't you? You didn't want the fun to be over...”

  
  


“Give the man a cigar,” she said smirking.

  
  


“You sick bitch...When they find out-,”

  
  


“Oh, they won't find out. It's such a shame...Upirs attacked out of nowhere, one of them bit out Johnson's neck. The other...she did the same to you, but she was kind enough to break it first.”

  
  


“You're destroying everything we stand for!”

  
  


“You guys get what you want, and I get what I want. Tell Johnson I said hi when you get to Hell,” she said, before grabbing up a handfuls of leaves to avoid leaving fingerprints as she gripped his face with them in her hands, twisting quickly until she heard the telltale snap of his neck.

  
  


She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed a number, waiting as it rang.

  
  


“They got away,” she said as they answered. “I'm sorry, there was nothing we could have done...Yes, I'm the only one left. I was gone for only a few minutes before they attacked. But don't worry, I'll find them, and they'll pay.”

  
  


 

_**Trinity** _

_**** _

_**** _

 

 

 

_**This gay pic  
** _

 

Of Peter and Roman in the back of the van, and Roman's face giving me constant problems, and his head propogating scale accidentally being set to 0.000 instead of 0.080. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have a problem using the word' balls' in a serious context or at all.


	12. You Are The Silence In Between What I Thought and What I Said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains plot points, very improperly timed sex, body dysphoria, one death (i lied), more fluff than you can shake a stick at and some serious smut 
> 
> also, there's art at the bottom since people liked the last one
> 
> it's steamier than last time but it's still technically sfw 
> 
> either way viewer discretion is advised

Pryce's name continued to read on the screen for a good few moments before Roman finally answered. Would Pryce be his savior or a thing of hindrance? Was it _really_ a good idea to admit to Peter that he loved him? Perhaps he was just thinking too much in the moment, and that he should keep his fucking mouth shut to stop from scaring Peter away anymore than he already had.

  
  


“This better be fucking good,” he said to the other party.

  
  


There was a brief silence on the other end of the line and Roman found he was quickly losing his patience despite the fact that it had only been a few seconds.  
  
  


"I suppose that depends on what you consider good," Pryce said.  
  
  


"Spit it out, Pryce."  
  
  


"We...We found Nadia," he said, and for a moment Roman was elated but it quickly turned to fear because the tone in his voice did not exactly instill confidence.  
  
  


"Is she okay?" he choked out, voice breaking some as though his vocal chords had not gotten the memo that he was about to speak.  
  
  


"Yes, more or less. She is alive and thriving but Miranda was not quite as lucky, and Nadia did not come out of this venture unscathed."  
Roman knew that nothing good would come from this news regarding Miranda.  
  
  


"She's dead, isn't she?" Roman asked, with a voice that portrayed very little emotion. It wasn't as though it wasn't upsetting but somehow he knew it was always going to turn out this way. He thought that perhaps without even knowing he had accepted this.  
  
  


"Yes... And I wish I could say that she died peacefully but I cannot lie to you. We may have a problem that is much larger than we anticipated."  
  
  


"Forget whatever bullshit is on the horizon right now, what did he do to Nadia?"  
  
  


"He... removed her ovaries. She will never be able to have children, and will very likely need hormone therapy."  
  
  


There was a feeling of disgust in him now so powerful it made his stomach churn and a cold chill travel up the length of his spine. Disgust, anger, and despair. His daughter was safe and home more or less but the fucker had mutilated her. She was changed for life because of this.  
  
  


"Why the fuck would he do this?" Roman asked, his voice trembling and higher an octave.  
  
  


"From what we found there, it seems the reason Spivak needed her was because he needed her eggs. There were papers there that detailed some of his plans, but of course it's all gibberish and he's hidden it behind a cipher... What we've translated so far is that he has been trying to reproduce, but since he is most likely the last of his kind, he needed the ovum and host of another species, but it had to have a very specific genetic code... He was implanting fertilized eggs into both male and female hosts... They ate them from the inside out.  
  
  


We were able to kill both Spivak and most of the offspring, but we captured a few of them for research, and unfortunately it seems a few may have escaped.  
But it seems as though his plan may have gone wrong. What he's created is monstrous and mutated; a hybrid of both upir and whatever it is he is. When we took them out of their environment it forced them to grow and adapt much quicker than any of us could have prepared for. It's purely primal and seems to only know hunger and violence. God help whoever encounters the ones that have escaped... "

  
  


"So that asshole not only mutilated my daughter but made his freaky fucked up fish babies with her?" Roman said, once again exasperated.  
  
  


"I'm sorry, Roman, truly. She should never have been a part of this..."  
  
  


"No, she shouldn't have. And if you weren't out there playing doctor with Norman and trying to find ways to kill my mother-"  
  
  


"Roman, that is uncalled for. None of us could ever have predicted what Olivia would do and you know-,”

  
  


“I'm sorry,” Roman said cutting him off. “You're right, it was uncalled for.” He knew he was just taking his anger out on Pryce. Today had been a shit day, and although he had his daughter back it wasn't entirely good news. He gave Peter a quick glance , who seemed both confused and displeased as Roman decided to carry on this conversation elsewhere. As much as Roman talked about shit in front of him all the time, he already seemed a bit self conscious about the whole thing and he didn't really want him to hear. Instead he quietly slipped out the door and into the van. Before he did so he checked beneath it to make sure nothing was blinking. Seemed to be safe.

  
  


“Are you still there?” Pryce asked after a moment.

  
  


“Yes. I had to leave the room...Shit's gotten really bad in the past few hours.”

  
  


“Would you care to elaborate? Maybe I could be of some assistance.”

  
  


“It's nothing you can help with, really. I don't know, they fucking found us. The Order, they took him and Christ, we got him back but they've been following us this whole time apparently. They've _known_ and they've been watching us. They've had a bug on us this whole time. We were never safe. And the bitch who took him, thank God she couldn't keep her fucking mouth shut or we would've never found this out. I don't know much of what happened to him before we found him because shit went south immediately after, but I know they wanted to keep him until he stops being useful.” 

  
  


“They must want the baby...” Pryce said, although it seemed less to Roman and more to himself.

  
  


“Any idea why that is?”

  
  


“The Order sometimes likes to use things that they deem an affront to their very nature for their own purpose. In any case it might be a good thing that they'd rather kidnap him than kill him. Of course, the ideal situation would be to leave you alone but it gives you time to stage a rescue should this happen again.”

  
  


“I'd rather it not,” Roman said, sounding very tired. “We're both sick of being stuck on the road, being hunted...I don't know how much longer either of us can do this. I feel like I'm going out of my fucking mind.”

  
  


“Now that Nadia is safe, we can hope to put some of our efforts into stopping this threat. I'd hope the two of you could come home before the birth, but now the escaped eldritch horrors will have to take at least some of my priority. With this live specimen, I can at least study it to try to understand where it will go and how I can kill it. But what is it that happened _after_ you escaped from The Order?” 

  
  


“It wasn't actually just me who helped him escape. Those upirs I was talking about, just happened to find me. I know that sounds suspicious as Hell but she helped us get out of there. Even if she is with them, she at least got us out. She's the one who found the bug, though. But fucking Peter...I should've listened to him earlier. Not even out the door and he just starts bleeding all over the damn place. Lana drove us away, and I stayed back there with all the carnage. Long story short, the uh..fucking birth canal, or whatever the fuck it is, opened. It was horrific, I want to forget about if I can, we ended up at this motel and Lana's gone again.”

  
  


“Is it supposed to be open that soon?” Pryce asked in a worried tone.

  
  


“Look, I don't know, he doesn't know. For all I know this shit could be completely normal. If not, well there's shit we can do about it now.”

  
  


“Well...I suppose you have a point. But I must be going now, Roman. You know the rules.”

  
  


“Yeah, well you called me. Thank you though, for finding her and...telling me.”

  
  


“Certainly,” and with one final goodbye Pryce hung up.

  
  


Roman let his hand fall to his side for a moment, the phone cradled in his fingers limply as he considered what he'd heard. Miranda was dead, but Nadia was safe, more or less. He should be happy, at least half of the way. His daughter was  _home_ , but he wasn't. He should be there with her, he shouldn't be on the road and worrying about her alone in the same town as Olivia. He shouldn't be running, his nerves torn and frayed into something that was nearly all anxiety now. Running forever, seemingly one step ahead even though it wasn't true. He wasn't happy, he was terrified. Now, in addition to this there was some escaped monstrosity probably wreaking havoc. He pocketed his phone and put his hands to his face, leaning back and taking in a deep breath to calm himself. Okay, he had this. Great pep talk. 

  
  


When he headed inside he found Peter had tangled himself in the sheets, though he had at least put on underwear at this point, and fallen asleep. Peter could sleep so easily, most times, it seemed like. But thinking back on it, he didn't think Peter slept all that much the night before and the concept of having ones balls ripped out  _did_ seem as though it would take up some great amount of energy. Roman decided he would join him, but not before cleaning up first. Shitty motel showers aside it felt a lot better to be clean, rather than the half assed job he'd done before he checked in to make it seem like he was a lot less of a murderer. Almost invigorating, but this didn't stop him from leaving the shower in dressing in nothing but his underwear before tossing his clothes haphazardly on the chair beside the window. 

  
  


  
  


He crawled in next to him, but did not keep any sort of healthy distance. Peter was on his side, facing the opposite wall and Roman came to wrap his arms around his waist, burying his face in the place between where his neck met his shoulder. Chastising himself for very briefly considering biting him, because he could sense the blood pulsing through his veins. But he had already fed, and he certainly wasn't about to feed on Peter in his sleep. Instead he busied himself with the smell of cheap hotel soap that clung to his skin. Peter did not move and it did not take Roman long to fall asleep. 

  
  


  
  


Like usual he dreamed of things nonsensical, in some way symbolic to something he didn't quite understand. But he recognized the black wings, however that was all he could make sense of. When he awoke later he found Peter had turned to face him and had twisted every sheet up between them. Roman was trapped in both a cocoon of sheets and limbs. He attempted to move his legs from them, feeling a bit like a mummy, but the movement apparently jostled Peter enough to wake him. He gave a quiet and annoyed groan before shoving his head against Roman's chest for the moment. 

  
  


“How the fuck did you do this?” Roman asked, causing Peter to look up at him in what Roman assumed was annoyance. The sun was barely a glimmer in the sky and most of the illumination came from the gaudy florescent 'Vacancy' sign from the parking lot, that flickered like an epileptic lightning bug every so often. 

  
  


“I had some weird as shit dreams...” 

  
  


“Did you see them too?” Roman asked. 

  
  


“See what?” 

  
  


“The wings.” 

  
  


“Not wings, just ...teeth. I get the feeling like we should do something about this but I know it's a bad idea.” 

  
  


“We can't be sidetracked with some saving the world bullshit right now...” 

  
  


“But it's hard not to feel...guilty, or the call. Aside from that, I swear I tried to stay up until you came back in...” 

  
  


“You needed sleep, I needed sleep...” Roman droned. 

  
  


Peter was quiet, but Roman sensed there was something on his mind. A question he was trying to bring up but as looking for the right words. Or maybe he was scared to. 

  
  


“Who died?” he finally asked, his voice cracking slightly as though it struggled to form the words that he should never have to ask. Roman did not answer at once, instead busied himself by tracing designs on Peter's shoulder with his fingers as he absentmindedly stroked the skin there. A swallow, thick and heavy in his throat and then he breathed out, “Miranda.” 

  
  


“Fuck,” Peter responded, though it was more of a sigh that just happened to sound close enough to the word. “God, we should have never gotten her involved with our shit...” 

  
  


“I know...” Roman said, his voice flat but remorseful. 

  
  


“And Nadia...?” 

  
  


“She's alive...She'll have some lasting damage, but she's alive and more or less healthy.” 

  
  


“Fuck me,” Peter sighed, “Does everyone who gets close to us somehow come out of it worse than they were?” 

  
  


“I don't think there's anything we could have done,” Roman said, the hand on his shoulder coming to brush stray strands away from Peter's face, resting lightly on the side of his neck for a moment. 

  
  


“But I took it for granted...Seeing her again. Just hoping that I could make shit right...I don't know if I would have done things any differently ...What were you going to say?” The question seemed unexpected. Perhaps Peter was trying to forget his guilt, or perhaps he was right in the way that you never know when you're going to lose someone, and that he wanted to give Roman the chance to tell him how he felt. But now Roman was feeling chicken. It wasn't the right time. 

  
  


“Its not important anymore,” Roman mumbled. Peter was quiet for a moment until his words suddenly broke the silence, cutting through the dark and startling Roman for a moment. So much so that he wasn't even sure what he'd said before he thought on it.

  
  


“You called me beautiful earlier...” he stated. 

  
  


“Yeah,” Roman responded, past the lump in his throat and the way it choked out the words. He heard Peter laugh some undignified snort of a laugh before responding with, “That's fucking weird, man.” 

  
  


“Why is it weird?” Roman asked with mild offense. 

  
  


“Because I think I'm the farthest thing from beautiful.” 

  
  


“Unconventionally,” Roman said defensively. 

  
  


“Are you saying I just look so weird that I'm pretty to you?” 

  
  


“No, fuck off.” Roman said, gently shoving his arm. He wasn't serious of course. “I mean, I already told you I think you're attractive. But as a whole...You've got some kind of aura. Like, alien.” 

  
  


“I can't relate...” Peter said. 

  
  


“In what way?” Roman asked. 

  
  


“I mean...everyone's got auras. Even you.” 

  
  


“And what does mine say?” Roman asked with a certain type of curiosity and nervousness. 

  
  


“The kind of shit all upirs have,” Peter said almost sadly. “Dark, mysterious, violent...Broken and afraid.” 

  
  


“Thanks,” Roman mumbled, but what he said made sense. 

  
  


“Maybe if you found some werewolf bitch with tits you'd think the same thing,” Peter remarked. 

  
  


“Well, I don't _know_ any other werewolf bitches with tits.” 

  
  


“You knew Christina.” 

  
  


“Christina was like, twelve.” Roman said sarcastically. “And I didn't know her like I know you.” 

  
  


“So what's different then, with me? Is it because I'm not a psychopath? I thought those were your type. Birds of a feather.” 

  
  


“Shut up,” Roman groaned. “I didn't really think to notice it before. But then we fucked, and I don't know...it wasn't like the first time when it wasn't just us. And you were just so...wild. You made me feel like I was literally fucking the forest, but in a good way. I've sort of just noticed it after then. I ...” Roman cleared his throat, feeling a little sheepish with what he as about to say “I kinda also really enjoy getting you off. Or...watching you. It's hot.” 

  
  


“Gross,” Peter remarked, “How dare you take pleasure in getting me off,” 

  
  


“You're being a combative little shit tonight, you know that?” 

  
  


“I don't want to think about ...what happened. It helps.” he said sadly. 

  
  


“Sorry,” Roman said, feeling bad now that he'd disrupted Peter's way of grieving. It hadn't been like this with Letha, of course, but Roman had barely seen Peter after that. But the truth is they barely knew Miranda, and although Peter barely knew Letha, he knew Miranda even less because of it. She was there to mend their wounds and that was the truth, and Roman sort of hated himself for it. For thinking this way, knowing what happened. But on the other hand, what sense would it be to sit around, being sad? Not that he wasn't but he felt like Miranda might not want them to cry over her. After what she'd done to get them back together, maybe she'd like it if they stayed that way. Or maybe Roman was just projecting. But he wanted to take his mind off of it, and Peter's mind too. 

  
  


“So the whole dark aura thing, I guess that just prevents you from being attracted to any upirs...” 

  
  


“Seriously, Roman?” Peter scoffed. “I don't know. Your mom was kinda hot.” 

  
  


“Asshole,” 

  
  


“No... I mean, she's not really my type. You're not bad, though.” 

  
  


“Not bad...That's what I've always wanted to hear.” 

  
  


Peter breathed out a laugh at this, stalling before he answered, “Yeah. Not bad. You're kind of pretty, like a girl.” 

  
  


“How many girls do you know this tall?” 

  
  


“Your sister.” 

  
  


“She's an outlier,” Roman said, and Peter laughed at him again and trailed his fingers up Roman's forearm. 

  
  


“You're...I don't know. I try not to think about it. The first time you asked me to fuck you I was seriously pissed off about how pretty you were. I just wish I could remember most of it. I remember before...I was disappointed for a minute because you don't make much noise. But I think I'd be fucking doomed if you did because I almost came on the sheets listening to the noises you made when I finally got you going.” 

  
  


Roman was a little surprised at hearing this, and he realized now how weird it felt for Peter to say he was attractive. It was not something he particularly enjoyed hearing, now that he thought of it. Maybe Peter felt the same... Maybe not. But though the light was dim, he was beginning to adjust to it and Peter almost looked a little flushed. But Roman could only respond with a short laugh and an okay. 

  
  


“I'm kind of worried even after this is over, I won't be able to look at you the same way...Not with what we've been through, and done. We know each other in ways we shouldn't.” Peter said. 

  
  


“Really going to be hard trying not to think of that sweet ass,” Roman remarked sarcastically. 

  
  


“Oh my God, stop,” he groaned. “That's so weird.” 

  
  


It was his turn to let out a slight laugh, and he came to rest his hand on Peter's ribs, running his fingers along the skin. Peter sucked in a breath and shied away from his touch, grabbing his hand and pushing it away. This earned a frown from Roman, not entirely sure what this reaction was for. 

  
  


“Are you okay?” 

  
  


Peter mumbled something under his breath, then let out a long and quiet sigh, averting his gaze from him the best he could. He still seemed flushed, almost more so now. He was wondering if he was actually blushing, which was pretty cute. 

  
  


“I have the world's _guiltiest_ fucking boner right now...” he said, his words gripped with shame. “And I just want it to go away, and you touching me isn't helping it.” 

  
  


It occurred to Roman then that the reason Peter seemed flushed wasn't originally from embarrassment, but probably because he was turned on. Roman hadn't even realized he had been less than soft himself this whole time, but that admittance seemed to kick things into overdrive and he felt a surge of heat in his abdomen. 

  
  


“For how long?” 

  
  


“Ever since you started talking about fucking me,” he mumbled. 

  
  


“Have you seriously been talking to me with a fucking hard-on this whole time?” Roman asked with a breath of a laugh. 

  
  


“I was hoping it would fuck off before you noticed,” Peter said, repositioning himself in a way that had one leg slotted between his. His thigh ended up brushing against his cock rather directly, causing his breath to hitch slightly in surprise. Peter seemed unamused by this. “Seriously?” 

  
  


“I honestly didn't realize until a second ago,” Roman defended. 

  
  


“Okay, I've got a fucking excuse. You don't.” 

  
  


“Who says I don't? Why do you get to decide what turns you on and what _doesn't_ turn _me_ on?” 

  
  


“Because this is a shit time. Someone just fucking died, we can't do this. It's disrespectful.” 

  
  


“But do you want to?” Roman asked, feeling like shit for asking. Peter was right but he was definitely thinking with is dick. 

  
  


“No!” Peter said sounding almost offended, before letting out a sigh, “Yes...wait, no, fuck off. Even if it wasn't disrespectful I don't...I don't really want you looking down there.” 

  
  


“Why?” Roman asked, and it was actually of concern at this point. Peter still seemed to be suffering from some kind of bodily dysphoria. 

  
  


“Because I feel like I've been fucking mutilated in a place that's supposed to be secret and sacred as it is. I've lost a serious part of me...I don't want people to know, even if they already do. It disgusts me.” 

  
  


“I won't, if you don't want me to...but I'm telling you, what you have now is a breath of fresh fucking air to what you had back in the van.” 

  
  


“Still...I feel like I have a fucking...Great Value brand pussy or something. There's not even anything good about it, and I'm not supposed to.” Roman laughed at this and felt bad for doing it moments later, then had to apologize. 

  
  


“You can go jerk off if you want to, I won't judge.” 

  
  


“I don't want to do that, either. I don't want to look at myself...” 

  
  


“Okay, well...” Roman started, looking for the right words for what he was trying to say. “You can stay here, and you can try to will it away, and _I'll_ go jerk off, or you can let me take care of you and show you there isn't anything to be ashamed of.” Roman said, momentarily forgetting Peter's no touching rule and brushing his hand along his cheek, to push back the hair fallen there. But Peter only let out a shuddering breath and leaned against the touch before moving forward and kissing him softly. 

  
  


Instinctively, Roman let his hand slide to the back of his neck, fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed back. He matched Peter's pace for as long as he held it, but Peter got worked up far quicker than even he probably thought he would. He was kissing him desperately, hands in his hair and breathing heavily from his nose. Peter's tongue was in his mouth before he even registered it. Roman felt instinct kick over at this point and rolled him onto his back, seating himself between his legs and leaning over. He could see him better now, because he wasn't blocking the light. He looked scared but hopeful, and after a moment of the two of them just staring at each other, filling the silent darkness with the sound of their own fevered breathing, Peter gripped the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss him. 

  
  


On that same instinct, Roman shifted his hips against Peter's and felt him jump slightly, though the gasp he took in was anything but frightened. Ragged and somehow breathless. It  _did_ feel sort of different, there was definitely less mass there, but Roman wasn't going to tell him that. It didn't really bother him. It continued this way for a good few moments, and Roman was beginning to feel a very combined dampness from the both of them. He pulled away from him, to look down at him and see how annoyed he looked that he'd stopped. He let out a sudden breathy laugh at the display before composing himself enough to speak. 

  
  


“Do you want this?” Of course, Peter was quiet for a moment, truly considering his options before he let out a choked, “Yes.” 

  
  


Roman didn't need another word and climbed off the bed to the bag he'd brought in. The thing constantly was stocked with lube because as of late it seemed like every time they ended up in a motel they'd fuck. Or in the back of the van. One day Peter was probably going to ask him to fuck him in broad daylight on the concrete of a McDonalds parking lot with all the screwing they'd been doing. He climbed back on with lube in hand and regained his position. 

  
  


The minute he looked down, hands gripping the waistband of his briefs, Peter called to him in annoyance.

  
  


“Roman,” he said with a certain amount of authority, that he almost found kind of hot. When he looked up he found Peter glaring down at him as he spoke, “Eyes up here.” 

  
  


He wanted to protest, to tell him that it was dark as shit anyway, but he didn't Instead he gave him a simple 'Okay' and continued what he was doing, all the while making sure he kept his gaze above the belt. When he got them off it was a sort of blind fumble, and he tried to use landmarks to figure out where he was going but inevitably he ended up finding the right spot, only to have accidentally nudged him in the place that he was so worried about. Peter jerked slightly and let out an unhappy noise, which lead to Roman apologizing profusely as he changed the angle of his wrist, so that he wouldn't have his hand so directly between his legs. He used the other to find his way to his fingertips holding the bottle, pouring some out and cursing slightly as it dripped down more than he had intended onto the sheets. It's not like the motel sheets probably didn't get all manner of fuck-fluids on it in the first place. 

  
  


He went through the motions as he usually did, the act now done so often it was practically second nature. Except usually he was able to look at him so it was a little harder. Peter seemed to be averting his gaze but it may have been just awkward to look someone in the eye while they're knuckle deep in your ass. Still he felt he had the duty to ask. 

  
  


“Are you okay?” to which Peter only gave a brief nod. When he had gotten two fingers in and there seemed to be more room he searched out his prostate almost like a guided missile, because at this point he knew where it was most of the time. But upon finding it he found a much different reaction than he was used to. He let out a sort of startled groan and bucked his hips up as though he was trying to get away. 

  
  


“Did I hurt you or something?” Roman asked, stilling himself almost immediately. His brow was furrowed in confusion and concern as he looked at him, and Peter let out a breath as he returned his gaze finally and settling his hips where they'd once been. 

  
  


“It didn't hurt it...felt fucking weird.” 

  
  


“Bad weird?” 

  
  


“I don't know...Try it again,” 

  
  


Though he was a little uncertain and nervous, Roman did as he was asked. It earned an almost similar response, except Peter seemed less surprised and let out an almost frustrated and confused whimper as he shifted his hips upward again. “Keep going,” he told him despite the fact that it seemed like he was trying to get away from him. So he did, and finally Peter seemed to get used to whatever strangeness he felt and started moving down to meet him. The first time he did Roman watched his chest almost still for a moment and he looked down, not completely at Roman but somewhere lower, before he finally exhaled in some choked and breathless growl of a moan that made Roman really have to fight to not come immediately from hearing it. The more he continued the more it effected him. He watched him arch his back and bite the back of his fist as he stifled a wounded, breathless sound from his throat. He moved his hips against his fingers so hard and desperately that he was almost certain he was trying to use them to get off. As he'd already managed three at this point, he pulled out suddenly to stop this from happening and Peter let something akin to a growl from his throat as he cursed him. 

  
  


“Oh, you _fucker_ ,” he breathed out, words choking out of him as his lungs clenched around them. 

  
  


“You seemed  _ really _ fucking close.” 

  
  


“Fuck yeah I was,” he said with annoyance. 

  
  


“So what the fuck was the difference?” Roman asked, unsure of what the hell had just happened here. 

  
  


“Shit, I don't know. It just felt really fucking good. But it was weird at first because I can feel it in my stomach.” As he spoke he really had to fight to catch his breath and Roman was almost not sure if he could even get his dick in him without him coming. But he was going to try. 

  
  


“I could fuck you or I could finger you until you get off but I'm going to be honest, I'd rather go with the first option.” 

  
  


“Yeah,” he said , his breath still coming out in light pants. “Alright, yeah. Go ahead.” 

  
  


“I'll be slow,” Roman remarked, lubricating himself and attempting to find the right opening again by feel alone. 

  
  


“I'm not a fuckin' virgin. And get your dick off my hip.” 

  
  


“It'd help if I could see where the fuck I was going, and I meant I'll go slow because I don't ant you to get off in five seconds. It's not fun for anyone.” 

  
  


“Fine, just look. Until you get your dick in, that's it.” 

  
  


Letting out a sigh of relief, Roman finally did look and guided his cock where he needed it to go. He tried not to stare but he couldn't help but notice it wasn't nearly as bad as Peter was making it out to be. He couldn't blame him, though. He'd probably be freaked out if he lost part of his body, too. Even looking, Roman was having trouble getting in. He pushed against the muscle that did not relent quite as easily as he'd hoped. The combined amount of lubricants instead made him slip upwards, right against the place Peter had warned him away from. He tensed up immediately and again let out a very displeased noise. 

  
  


“Fuck, I'm sorry, it slipped.” 

  
  


He didn't respond, only shifted his hips up trying to meet Roman's cock more easily. With some careful maneuvering he managed to get in, albeit very slowly because Peter seemed kind of tense in general. Once he was in far enough that he was confident he wouldn't slip back out he leaned forward, balancing himself on either side of him with his elbows and slipping his arm forward enough to cup his face. He tilted his chin up far enough to kiss him, which Peter seemed to enjoy as he brought one hand to dance along Roman's shoulder, to the column of his neck, and to his hair. 

  
  


Little did Peter know that this would be the start of a very long night. For him, at least, it started normally. Roman entered him slowly, and he found even without aiming for his prostate, he still felt it. Not as intensely as someone directly pushing on it, but it gave him that same kind of sensation. A sort of pleasure that traveled up his abdomen and occasionally into the arteries of his thighs. That sent shivers up his spine and made him arch up every so often. He met his thrusts on instinct but Roman seemed to be holding back. He wouldn't quite understand just how much he was holding back until later. 

  
  


He had his fingers in his hair, his lips on his and breathing in every broken sigh. Touching him wherever he could, making his way up his stomach, his chest, to his sides and hips. When Peter couldn't hold onto the kiss, as his body arched away from him in pleasure, Roman would suck small welts into his neck before kissing them so gently the contrast almost made it seem like he'd done nothing at all. 

  
  


It took him a moment to realize that Roman really  _ was _ going slow, but in a very calculated way. He would bring him nearly to the edge and then stop long enough for him to calm down. The first several times it happened Peter was very frustrated, but Roman kept this on for nearly an hour. A fucking hour. It usually only lasted a few minutes at best. But the longer he did this, the less it was starting to feel like sex to Peter. He wasn't looking for the finish line anymore, he was just enjoying it. He realized then how close they were, physically and almost mentally. They were  _ so _ close. They moved in tandem and Peter could feel every part of his body working against him. It made his lips tingle when Roman pulled away long enough to kiss another place, because he was just so desperate to kiss him. It felt  _ good _ in a way that just sex didn't. 

  
  


He realized, near the end of the hour mark, the extreme warmth in his stomach. Not the kind of warm that was arousal, but something else. A different feeling that set his very soul on fire and it burned with emotion. It was a moment later he recalled feeling this same thing the first time he kissed Letha. For a moment this scared Peter, but only for a moment, as Roman finally decided he would stop giving up his own orgasm and began fucking him a lot harder and faster. He tilted his hips towards his prostate and Peter saw stars behind his eyes, and a deep burn of arousal and pleasure burning in his gut. He cried out, broken, choked and ragged as Roman continued. Every muscle seemed to respond and his thighs shook at each thrust. He gripped the upper half of his shoulders by slipping his arms beneath Roman's, inevitably dragging his nails down his back and leaving deep scratch marks. Deep red lines like blood in snow. He listened to Roman let out a displeased hiss that only devolved into something more sensual. 

  
  


Whatever he'd done seemed to trigger Roman into being far less caring and gentle with him. It had turned back to just sex, but Peter still felt that warmth burning in his chest. 

  
  


“Fucking come for me, I want to watch you,” he said, words intercepted by a the hitches in his breath, wavering in pitch, choked off and breathless. 

  
  


“Do you?” Peter asked, smirking at him slightly as he spoke through panted breaths. “Why?” 

  
  


“Because you're so pretty when you come.” 

  
  


“Make me,” he responded, but whatever he'd said only devolved into a low and ragged moan. 

  
  


“Oh, I will,” Roman said with a certain kind of cockiness. Normally it would piss Peter off but at this point it kind of turned him on. In response to this Peter let out some low and growling hum of pleasure, fucking back onto him at each thrust, knowing he was probably ten seconds from getting off. He spoke to him then and his body was almost hellbent on not letting him. His lungs felt so tight and his stomach felt like it was going to start imploding. 

  
  


“I'll fucking come for you,” he said breathlessly. “Fuck me, I will.” Whatever came out of his mouth next was pretty much nonsensical cursing and pleas of desperation. He chased it up to the edge until he came against Roman's stomach, so hard it almost bypassed his own. He dug his nails into the skin of his back and shook hard with each wave. It felt incredibly bizarre. He felt it come deep from within him, feeling muscle contraction in places he usually didn't, but he wasn't complaining because it almost felt like it was stimulating his prostate in edition to what Roman was doing. Roman wasn't far behind, but he didn't stop even after he'd come, fucking him past the copious amount of muscle contractions that left him gasping for breath. He didn't stop until he couldn't, too soft to do much of anything. 

  
  


He hovered above him momentarily, panting for breath and trying to regain his composure. He leaned down momentarily to grab his face with both hands, kissing him hard despite the fact that neither of them could breathe correctly. But Peter found that he craved it, even when Roman tried to pull away, he gripped him by the column of his neck and pulled him back down. When Roman finally was allowed to move he reached over to the bedside table to grab a tissue to clean himself up with, falling to the bed heavily beside him afterwards. 

  
  


“Jesus Christ,” he said, low and breathless. 

  
  


  
  


When some time had passed and the two of them were now far cleaner than they had been seconds ago, Roman turned to him suddenly. He'd been laying on his back but Peter had migrated to his side at one point. He was never really a side sleeper but lately he felt it was way more comfortable. He'd had his eyes closed, not truly asleep but just momentarily resting, when he felt Roman brush his hand along his cheek. He opened them to find him not truly looking at him, but past him, down towards his collar bone. He took in a breath that was almost shaking, like he struggled with it, and it somehow sounded thicker than usual. He was about to ask him what he was doing before he kissed him, tenderly and slow, and he felt that same burn in his chest. 

  
  


When he broke away he let out a breath that shook just like the first, breathed in and sniffled slightly before wiping one eye with the back of his hand in irritation. He tried to avoid his gaze, looking everywhere but at his face. Nervous and afraid, his hand still on his cheek and absentmindedly running it along his skin. But then he finally did look up, and he spoke to him, and suddenly Peter felt his world closing in on him, but at the same time filled him with a sense of clarity and understanding. 

  
  


“I...” he started, his voice breaking for a moment. He watched him swallow heavily, trying to will his vocal chords into functioning. “I'm in love with you...and I can't keep pretending I'm not, or it's gonna fucking kill me.” 

  
  


And so there it was, the thing Peter had always truly known, but had never put a word to. Had he really, though? Or had he thought it was a simple crush? But he knew now that he was truly  _ in love _ with him. He'd seen the signs, he had to have. The way he pushed him away to get it to stop. But clearly, Peter couldn't stop it. It was too late, it had always been too late. He couldn't really think of how to respond to it. How do you respond to that kind of thing? He said the only thing he could think of. 

  
  


“I know.” 

  
  


Roman buried his head against his neck, and Peter listened to him cry silently and apologize every so often. He wrapped his arm around his upper back, leaning his chin against his shoulder and let him cry. He noticed, once again, just how small he seemed. About the time he heard Roman beg him not to leave, he realized his face felt hot, and his eyes wet. He swiped away a stray tear that threatened to run down too far. He didn't respond to him, not really. He couldn't. He almost couldn't focus on what he was saying, because all he could focus on was that very familiar burning warmth in his chest, and it scared the hell out of him. 

 

 

 

 

_**Art:** _

 

Idk where this pic is from timeframe wise but somewere recent since they keep fuckin in motels 

 

 

 


	13. When Black Birds Fly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This starts with fluff and ends with gore
> 
> be warned  
> also there's art

Pryce could have never truly saved Roman from his own self destructive tendencies. He supposed that even delaying it, Roman would still tell Peter how he felt that night. In his mind this was technically self destructive. He had the feeling that with this admittance, what they had now might be destroyed. But laying there next to him after what seemed like the longest sex session yet, Roman was being eaten inside. Feeling him like he did, so close for so long, so intimately, it sparked such strong emotion in him that it was almost like he felt the first day he'd realized he loved him. Except it was worse, and he'd gotten so close before and it had been halted. He felt a deep darkness he'd felt many times before spreading through his body, starting from his stomach and moving on wards. It ate at him, to keep this secret. Rushed through his veins, stripping the flesh from them, fraying his nerves, making his heart clench up and skip beats until he was afraid that this pain might just kill him. That this poison would run its course and destroy him from the inside if he didn't let it out. It fucking  _ hurt _ , to keep going like this, to keep pretending nothing had changed on the outside when inside his mind was at a constant war. 

  
  


  
  


After a while the only thought in his mind was to tell him. An endless barrage of his own mind screaming at him, like it would never rest until he did it. He'd never sleep again because of the sound of his own thoughts. So finally, he told him, his whole body feeling like it was five seconds from snapping in half from how tense he felt. Peter's reaction wasn't exactly what he expected. He'd expected anger, fear maybe. He saw fear at first but then acceptance, and after he spoke Roman felt the floodgates break, and he cried for what seemed like forever. He was still terrified despite the fact that he'd confessed, and that Peter really didn't seem that angry. He didn't want him to leave again.

  
  


  
  


When Roman had calmed down at least most of the way, Peter pulled himself from his grip, reaching down to grab his underwear, pulling them on for the moment to climb out of bed and head off to the bathroom. Roman wouldn't lie and say he didn't find his sudden silence and departure unnerving.

  
  


  
  


It was probably right of him, because the more Peter thought about it, the more freaked out he got. Initially he'd only left because he had to pee, but spent more time in there than he'd intended. He leaned against the sink for a moment, using the cool water against his face to try to gain some clarity, not to mention that he felt very hot, not to mention sick. It was probably a combination of problems but he was starting to feel like there were constant butterflies in his stomach and he didn't care for it.

  
  


It took him a moment to finally emerge, to make his way for the bag and get a change of underwear that he realized, unfortunately, were just slightly too tight to be comfortable but it was all he had. Roman had not moved much, and as he laid down next to him he seemed almost comatose in the way that he was too afraid to look at him, or talk to him. Hesitantly he reached out to brush his hand along the top of Roman's, hoping it would spur him into speaking to him. That was probably the worst idea, but he knew Roman needed to talk. When he finally did it was with a question. 

  
  


“If you knew...why didn't you say anything?” he asked, tone flat but slightly broken. Peter responded to this with an uneasy sigh and pulled his hand away to tuck against his own chest.

  
  


“I didn't really have a word for it...and I was really hoping it wouldn't happen.”

  
  


“Sorry...” Roman said, but it sounded both disingenuous and irritated.

  
  


“That's why I kept trying to keep you at arms length, but I fucked that one up... I didn't want you to love me.”

  
  


“Is that really such a bad thing?”

  
  


“I don't know if I can give you what you want...” Peter said sadly.

  
  


“You don't have to.”

  
  


“But is that really true? Can we really keep doing this?” he asked with a tone of hysteria in his voice. “Would you really be okay dealing with someone who might never feel the same way you do?”

  
  


“No...I mean, I don't know. I have to. It fucking sucks but I can't change how I feel. But maybe I can hope. Maybe that hope can keep me alive.”

  
  


“For how long?”

  
  


“Long enough. But how can you tell me you feel nothing for me, when you do what you do all the time? How can you kiss me, and lay in my arms at night, and fuck me almost every day and tell me you feel nothing?”

  
  


“Because...” Peter started, letting out a sort of nervous sigh. “Because I can't tell what's real, Roman. I told you this. I told you my emotions are all over the place, and I don't know if I want to start something with you that I might not be able to keep going after this is over.”

  
  


“But we've  _ already _ started something, Peter. We started it months ago when I came home and you begged for my help, even if neither of us realized it. We started something when I put a fucking baby in you. Fuck, we started it the day we met. Even then I couldn't keep my stupid ass away from you. You captivated me. You said it yourself you don't know how shit's ever going to go back to normal.” 

  
  


“I know...” Peter said, running a hand over his face and letting out a slight groan, “Fuck, I know. I'm sorry. I wish I could just...make up my mind, and tell you yes or no, but I don't  _ know _ . It's the must frustrating shit.” 

  
  


“I just...I know, even if you don't feel the same way, promise me you won't leave. Please...I can't take that again.”

  
  


“Roman, even if I wanted to, I can't. You'd have to be pretty shitty to make me leave, I'm not going to leave my kid and I'm not going to take it from you.”

  
  


“To reiterate, in a time that I'm not thinking about getting into your pants...what is it you feel?”

  
  


“You were trying to get into my pants?”

  
  


“Don't pretend you weren't trying to get into mine. Besides, it didn't seem very thought out the first time.”

  
  


Peter let out an annoyed sigh, but he was almost glad that somehow it seemed more normal now. This was...normal. He was almost comfortable.

“I don't know. I like your company, probably more than I should. Sometimes when it's too quiet, I hate that we're not speaking. Sometimes it feels like we're too far apart. I just want you to touch me...I want something domestic. I want to kiss you until you can't feel your mouth anymore. I want to fuck the life out of you. I want you to hold me at night because it feels so fucking lonely when you don't. Stupid bullshit like...Sometimes, I wish we could be home. I'd still have Dee, and Pryce and...everyone I need. But I still want to lay with you for hours in bed and just not do shit but keep each other company. Then you could go to work and I could do fuckall, just..fuck around, talk to Destiny. Wait for you to get home so I can fuck your brains out. Do stupid shit with you that doesn't involve us driving hours on the road... Fall asleep with you at night and do it again tomorrow.” As he spoke, he could feel that dooming heat sparking in his torso. Did he  _ really _ want this? 

“And I want you to be there when this is over. I'll try to find a job, we'll find a good nanny. On days off I want you to come home to me and I want to tell you all the shit that's happened, and I want you to be there for your kids. I want to know what it's like to see them so excited to see you come home...Fucking Christ, I'm such a girl.”

  
  


Roman laughed softly at this and his hand found its way to Peter's wrist.

“You know damn well you don't have to get a job.”

  
  


“I feel like an asshole staying at your place for free as it is, and if I had money I'd be helping you now. Can't even swipe someone's wallet without drawing too much attention, though.”

  
  


“Really sounds like you hate me,” Roman said with a sarcastically disheartened sigh.

  
  


“I wasn't finished. Because that is not  _ all _ I feel for you. Sometimes you piss me off just because you exist. And in those moments where shit is too quiet, there's a good chance I actually want it that way. But there's no way you could know that. On some days, for hours at a time, I just can't stand you, and there's absolutely no reason for it. I think you drank a soda too loudly the other day and I was about to lose my mind. So my point is...I don't know if I...” Peter stopped himself short of saying 'love you or hate you', but continued. “If I can't stand you, or tolerate you, or really want you around. I know half of it's just hormones. Everything I like about you might be just because my brain's trying to keep the baby daddy around long enough while it's swimming with hormones I shouldn't even have. I can't promise you it will stay this way.” 

  
  


Perhaps not helping his case at all, Peter scooted over so that he was far more in Roman's space, and Roman immediately shifted so that he could get closer, laying a hand on his shoulder. Despite the fact that Peter was feeling a little too warm, he really enjoyed the warmth Roman was adding. Thank  _ God _ for non-stereotypical vampire creatures, Roman was like a fucking oven sometimes. “Do you still love me after all that?” 

  
  


“You know it,” Roman said, looking down at him. “So, is this one of your...'I have the brain of a chick and want to make good with the father of my kids' moments?”

  
  


“Probably.”

  
  


“I'll take what I can get.”

  
  


“Five minutes from now it might be the 'I have the brain of a chick and I wish Roman Godfrey would just fucking die', so watch yourself.”

  
  


Despite all he'd said, there was another reason he was currently craving Roman's touch. To be comforted. The sensation in his stomach had not ceased. If anything, it had grown stronger. He didn't even realize how low it was until he felt a very annoying pang in his bladder. Inside, he was furious. He had  _ just _ been in there. He was not about to fall prey to having to pee constantly. He was comfortable, almost too warm, and he did not want to move. But the sensation culminated with the pain, and against Roman's shoulder he winced slightly. He slipped one hand between them, to grip at his lower abdomen although it would stop whatever issue it was he was having. It seemed to have helped for the time being at least. Roman, of course, questioned this. Always worried about him. For a moment he was incredibly annoyed by  _ that,  _ but it was at the moment overshadowed by the fact that he'd been feeling something off and on that told him to get up, and he was not about that life right now. 

  
  


“My stomach feels fucked up and I feel like I have to piss again...”

  
  


“Well, maybe you should go.” Roman said, though the tone he said it in was almost sarcastic as though Peter wasn't aware how his own body worked and the basis of waste removal.

  
  


“God, Roman, I didn't fucking know that's how pissing worked,” he mumbled. He was pushing his buttons whether he meant to or not. “I don't want to get up. It's fucking ridiculous. It's stopped for now, though.”

  
  


The room grew silent again, Roman lightly stroking the skin on his shoulder and back absentmindedly. He had to admit that it felt good... It was starting to put him to sleep. Warm, comfortable, currently not feeling the urge to pee. He could sleep like this, definitely. Though he kept his hand in the general area he let it lean away, somewhere closer to Roman's hip than his own body. Until it happened once more, and he woke from whatever doze he'd been in, instinctively gripping the area once more to try to stop it.

  
  


It stopped once more, but Peter would not dismiss it so quickly. He left his hand there, letting out an annoyed huff against Roman's skin and pushing his head against his shoulder, hoping somehow this would help. Like trying to shut out the light. Peter's only goal was to get comfortable now no matter how little sense that made. As he began to fall asleep once again, it happened once more and tore him from his brief slumber. He was incredibly confused at first because it was not just the discomfort and the need to piss insistently, but he felt pressure on his palm, if ever so slight.

  
  


When it happened again, and several more times after, Peter realized now that it wasn't that he was having stomach issues and had to pee, it was movement and the feeling of his bladder being repeatedly pummeled. Rude, for one, but pretty fucking crazy. It freaked him out at first, to really feel something was alive and moving in him, punching his organs. It felt so  _ weird _ . Peter thought back though and realized this probably wasn't the first time he'd felt it move. He recalled feeling what he thought was simply the inner workings of his intestinal tract, acting up and being obnoxious. But these were so much stronger. 

  
  


But then he really thought about it, what a big milestone this was. This thing was  _ alive _ . It was moving, and therefor reminded him of that fact. This was his child, making itself known. It was his and the attachment he felt to it, once again, skyrocketed. He was suddenly filled with so many emotions that he didn't know what to do with them. Crying, apparently, was one of those solutions. Not even enough that he even realized at first that he was doing it until Roman did, and again asked him what was wrong. When he tried to respond he could only think of one thing, which to Roman made no sense. “It's...It's alive,”he said, still overwhelmed by this simple fact. 

  
  


“What?” Roman asked, somewhat concerned.

  
  


“I mean it's fucking moving,” he said, pulling away from him slightly to swipe a tear from his eye.

“Seriously?”Roman asked, this time his tone far more elated but with some amount of disbelief. Not entirely sure what words to respond with, Peter took his hand in his and spoke, “This is about the only time I'm letting you do this, don't get any ideas.” he said, sniffling slightly and pulling it down to put it where his hand had been.

  
  


There was a pause, and so much silence that it was almost uncomfortable, until he felt the movement again to which Roman responded with a very simple, “Holy shit.” For some reason this was funny to him, and he let out a huff of a laugh. “That's our fucking kid...” he said, sounding almost exasperated.

  
  


“I mean, I hope it is, or I've got tapeworms or something,” Peter said sarcastically.

  
  


“You're not a tapeworm...” Roman said, though it was directed to the thing moving beneath his skin. “But you sure eat like one.”

  
  


Once the movement had calmed down, Roman gripped the side of his face and kissed him hard, which surprised him more than it should have at first. When he pulled away he spoke only briefly before kissing him again, several times. Between each he spoke to him, telling him how much he loved him in as many different ways as he could say it. It made that spark erupt in him again, in the center of his torso. He laughed though, even though he wasn't sure what was funny. Light hearted and happy, just for the sake of being happy.

  
  


  
  


There was some sort of mutual silence for some time, and in that silence the both of them drifted off into nothingness without even realizing it. For once, a dreamless sleep that only ended with the two of them waking suddenly that early morning. But as they woke, something felt off about the air. An urgentness to leave as soon as they could. It was an unspoken anxiety, one the both of them knew the other felt despite not talking about it. They said little to the man at the front desk as they turned in their key and left. There were sirens in the air as they pulled onto the road and Roman made an attempt to go in the opposite direction.

  
  


Neither of them really felt like speaking for some reason, but the silence was too much and Roman flipped on the radio to try to help at least him relax. But it was in vain, as a man in the middle of what seemed like an important broadcast filled the van.

  
  


“Remember, we urge you to stay inside. Attempt _no_ _contact_ with these creatures. Lock your doors, shut your windows, and stay safe. Do not attempt to run, do not attempt to flee. Stay _out_ of your vehicle and away from open roadways.”

  
  


“Do you think we should turn back?” Peter asked nervously. Roman only nodded and looked for a place to make a U-turn, as the stretch of road they were on was narrow and one way. Up ahead he saw two turns, thinking he could make either of them and try to turn around. As he neared them he watched two cars come from each side and Roman had to slam on the breaks as both of them collided violently at high speed. It blocked both exits with the pile of wreckage. They could see through one window a man who was clearly dead, the steering-wheel very nearly in his jaw, and it hung limply from one side of his face where it barely clung to threads of muscle and flesh.

  
  


  
  


  
  


In the next car, they could see stirring. Someone was still alive, they probably needed help! Peter seemed to be far more eager to help him than Roman, as he made preparations to try to free him from the car, but Roman stopped him by grabbing his arm tightly.

  
  


“He needs help!” he shouted in disbelief. “You can't just leave him there!”

  
  


“But what the fuck was he running from?” Roman hissed.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“He was running from something. We have to get out of here...”

  
  


“We could just get-,”

  
  


The door suddenly scraped open where it laid against the asphalt, and a man squeezed himself from between the twisted metal. It was a grisly sight. The man's arm was barely hanging on, the bones which were twisted and mangled seeming to be the only thing holding it together, aside from the tiny fragments of muscle. His eye was missing, it having popped in the socket and left little but mangled remains of what it once was. He seemed like he almost didn't notice this injury, though. He made no attempts to look at the other car before he hobbled over to the van looking terrified. Terrified of something else, not the fact that he was bleeding out. He banged on the window and screamed, muffled through the glass.

  
  


“You gotta get me out of here!” he yelled. “Please, just get me out of here!”

  
  


Roman gave him a frantic nod, unbuckling his seat belt and attempting to head back to the door on the side to let him in. It was hard getting over all the shit back there, though. Though Roman didn't see it, Peter noticed him looking back frantically and screaming, “Oh God, God, please hurry before it gets here!” Just as Roman was about to open the door, which thankfully he did not, there was a scream as a shimmering, black flash slammed into the side of the van. The both of them jerked back and could only watch as the man was devoured by something that was clearly inhuman. Tearing at this flesh as he screamed, with sharp razor sharp teeth that came from what almost seemed to be an unidentifiable mouth.

  
  


  
  


It held him down with one muscular leg, the talons of which dug deeply into his flesh, while thick black wings used to balance themselves on the pavement as it lacked arms. Behind it swayed a dangerous looking scorpion tail that seemed to drip venom from its tip. It didn't seem to be even useful as the thing had chased him down with pure brute strength.

  
  


Roman was climbing into the front seat again, slowly and stealthily, watching it the entire time. It raised its head from the mangled mess beneath it for a moment as he did. It had no eyes, no mouth. It was a shapeless, featureless dome other than two bony protrusions from the side of its skull. They watched as the thing's mouth suddenly became apparent. It raised it's head slightly and from what appeared to be its neck, it opened to reveal sharp teeth, dripping with spit as it snarled. It opened more, like it was never going to stop, and it screamed. A hissing, shrill cry that almost hurt to hear it was so loud.

  
  


Without a second thought, Roman quickly threw on the seat belt and put the car in drive, slamming on the gas and creating the screech of burning rubber against the pavement before it shot forward, hitting the creature head on and knocking it hard into the middle of the street beyond. It screamed in pain, and although it appeared to be all muscle it looked rather pathetic as it tried to right itself with its wings and legs. He didn't give it that chance, before it could retaliate he swerved into the grass before gunning it straight for the beast. They both felt the wheel hit first, then the bumps, the sickening cracks and squelches.

  
  


As he passed over it, Roman took a look in the side mirror to see it vaguely twitching on the ground, but it seemed destroyed, shredded, pulverized... For good measure he put the van in reverse and ran over it once more before driving off. The wheel trailed its guts like some macabre, violent 'just married ' tin cans and string. Peter checked the side mirror once more to make sure it was dead, and it was still lying there in the middle of the street, looking desecrated.

  
  


“What the _fuck_ was that?!” Peter asked, like Roman knew. But Roman actually did know.

  
  


“Fucking Pryce...” Roman said, breathing out a distraught sigh as he sped way above the speed limit. “He told me these things fucking got out. When he went to get Nadia...”

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“Spivak was making some freaky upir...fish fucker offspring using Nadia's ...it's fucking gross, it's fucked up. They got out.” Roman ran a hand over his face, taking in a shaky breath. “This is my fault...”

  
  


“How is this your fault? You said Pryce-,”

  
  


“Because she's my daughter. He took _my_ daughter. I could've done so much more to keep her safe. I should've never sent Miranda to see him. I just wanted her to stop freaking the fuck out, I did it to get her off my case. Now the world's ending and it's my fault,” Roman said frantically. The anxiety in his voice was very clear.

  
  


“Roman,” Peter said authoritatively. “You didn't do this. If anything, this is Olivia's fault. And no one said the world's ending.”

  
  


“Did you not see that thing? Hear the fucking news broadcasts?”

  
  


“I heard them...But there can't be _that_ many, right? And we just took out one of them.”

  
  


“You better hope you're fucking right...” Roman said, trying to calm himself but it didn't seem to be working. But even in this state he seemed to be able to make up some kind of plan. “Okay...Alright, we need to get out of town. We need to get _inside_. But this thing, it's eating people. It's going to places where there's people. We need to get off the grid.”

  
  


“And where is off the grid?”

  
  


Roman didn't answer him, only took out his phone, hands shaking as he swiped through it. So quickly, to Peter, it almost looked like he absorbed nothing of what he was looking at. He still didn't answer him as he made a quick call, waiting for the answer on the other line before letting out a shaky, “Claire?”

  
  


_**ART OF THAT THING** _   
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little nervous about this chapter. I really hope it doesn't seem like I'm jumping the shark, but it's something I've been planning for a while...


	14. Tainted Milk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Roman gets fucked up and people cry a lot. 
> 
> Given the name of this story I had been using name segments and other films from the person who's film I took the name from (like I said, it's the name of a segment in a movie that really has little to do with this fanfic, it's just really weird and has interesting segment names) This is the final chapter that will use names from those segments as I have now finished the three I set out to do. 
> 
> Just a random tidbit of info.

Had things not already started off bad that day, the both of them would find that it could only get worse. When Roman had called Claire he had not expected her answer to be met with hesitation. The fact that their house no longer existed, yet they were of course invited to where they now lived. It would just be harder to find...But this was just one pitfall they'd experience today alone, and something that would bleed further into the days ahead. After a few hours of driving, Roman made his way via very careful instructions to little more than a bush in the woods. He parked some distance away to keep the location safe as he waited for Claire to meet them.

  
  


They watched as she suddenly pushed the branches of the large ground foliage aside, as though she'd materialized like a fruit from its very branches.

  
  


“Jesus Christ,” she said, closing the distance between them as they leaned against the van. “What the hell happened to that thing?” Neither of them had truly gotten a good look at it until just now. It was dented in several places, long scratch marks along the side door and a busted headlight. Of the most jarring changes was how much blood was all over it. It was as though they'd been stuck in a bog that was full of body parts, and if one looked it almost appeared as though rapidly decaying intestines had been wrapped around the wheel and rear axle. They'd have to fix this, if the world didn't end first.

  
  


“It's a long story...” Roman said, with such exhaustion in his tone he might as well have just passed out right there. “Part of the reason we're here.”

  
  


“Did you kill someone? Is that why you needed off the grid?”

  
  


“First of all, we are already in deep enough shit as it is. Do you really not know what's happening out there?”

  
  


“We're literally underground. Signal is kinda shit down there...It's a miracle I even got your call.”

  
  


“Okay...look, we need to get inside. Can we talk about this there?”

  
  


Claire nodded, leading the both of them towards the bush. She pushed it aside to reveal a concrete structure with a door, shrouded by foliage, some of which Roman noticed was fake. What he also noticed was how out of it Peter suddenly seemed. Like the excitement of the day had just taken everything out of him. As they were making the way down the steps, Roman neared him close enough to ask if he was okay out of earshot, to which he made some vague gesture that was basically telling him to fuck off. The stairs were far too long it seemed for either of them. Roman was okay but he was becoming worried with how unsteady Peter seemed with each step.

  
  


  
  


Half way down, Roman was barely quick enough to catch Peter as he suddenly collapsed. He let out a string of curses and struggled to hold him upright enough so that he wasn't falling. He was conscious but almost barely, like he was just awake to not fall over completely. He had to quickly lower the both of them into a sitting position so that he didn't end up dropping him. He immediately leaned his head against him, letting out labored breaths he didn't even seem to know he was doing.

  
  


“You have to tell me what's wrong,” Roman said nervously, but in a tone that also held a sort of bold authority over what he was saying. “I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong, and don't you fucking dare tell me it's nothing.” Peter's response to this was a muted groan of annoyance, and Roman glanced between him and Claire who seemed just as confused. She mouthed something that Roman had to assume was of worry, of asking if he was alright, to which he shrugged somewhat frantically.

  
  


“I'm...fucking starving,” Peter said suddenly.

  
  


“I could try to make something for you,” Claire said soothingly.

  
  


“Not for food,” he mumbled, his words slightly slurred. He was clearly fighting to stay conscious, but Roman understood him.

  
  


“Okay...Shit, okay. Claire, could you...” he stalled, digging into his pocket and tossing the keys at her, which she barely caught. “Could you get the cooler in the back of the van?” She only nodded, squeezing past the two of them and running up.

  
  


“Why didn't you tell me this shit sooner?” he said in a hissing whisper. “You _know_ what can happen.”

  
  


“I didn't know,” Peter responded, his voice so tired every syllable seemed like a struggle. “I was...I don't know, dizzy. I thought I was fine but I just got....” he stalled, lost in the sentence. Like his brain had temporarily shut off. “Hungry...Like when you don't eat for too long. It's not like last time.”

  
  


“You know what you're going to have to do...”

  
  


“I know,” Peter said, but it was mournful in the way he spoke. He truly seemed to be dreading it.

  
  


“And it has to start with you getting down these stairs.”

  
  


Without another word, Peter attempted to stand, but failed exponentially. Roman had to quickly stand to catch him. He let out a huff of both annoyance and relief to know he'd stopped him from falling down the stairs. The walk down seemed like it took forever, but once they were at the bottom Roman sat with him against the wall until Claire could tell them where they'd be staying.

  
  


“You have to stay awake,” he said, jostling him slightly to stop him from losing consciousness. “I can't help you if you're unconscious.”

  
  


“I'm awake,” he groaned. “Fuck off. Wouldn't it be easier to give it to me if I wasn't trying to fight you?”

  
  


“I'm not going to pour liquid down your throat while you're asleep.”

  
  


He gave an annoyed grumble and settled against his shoulder until Claire came back down the stairs.

  
  


“This thing is fucking heavy,” she said panting.

  
  


“Sorry...Do you have a room we can go to? And some rope, maybe?”

  
  


Claire made a vague motion, signaling to follow as she lugged the cooler with her. Without even warning him, Roman slipped his arms beneath Peter's legs and lifted him. That seemed to wake him up enough to fight to not fall, but getting up off the floor with him was harder than he'd anticipated. By the time he was up he was staggering and fighting to keep standing.

  
  


“Jesus _fuck_ you're getting heavier by the day, I swear.”

  
  


“You're full of shit, I am not,” Peter retorted, his speech somewhat slurred but still held enough conviction to let him know he wasn't happy about that statement. Claire glared at him for it as well, and it did not occur to him immediately that this probably could have been taken as very insulting. On the other hand, Roman was temporarily taken aback at the fact that he could gauge his weight by picking him up, meaning he'd picked him up more in the last few months than he ever had. It's not like he'd have had a reason to prior to this, other than the time he had to carry him bloody and naked to his bathtub.

Roman noted as they walked that though it seemed more spacious than an average bunker, it also seemed more cold. Mostly concrete and cold floors and corridors. Claire pushed open a metal door in one of the hallways that lead to a bedroom, the bedroom in which he assumed they'd be staying, sliding the cooler in after them.

  
  


“I'll go see if I have a rope...” she said, the tone in her voice one of mild suspicion and confusion. Roman deposited him on the bed a bit rougher than he had intended, causing him to let out a muffled noise of protest as he hit the mattress.

  
  


“Are you ready for this?” Roman asked, sitting beside him and listening to him let out a long sigh of annoyance.

  
  


“Which part? The part where I try to kill you or the part where my guts try to escape?”

  
  


“Either,” he responded, letting one hand idly dance along the exposed skin on Peter's arm. He did not move. Not until Roman found his finger tips against his palm, which is when he closed his fist around his fingers in some almost bizarre attempt at hand holding, or something of the like. It made the joints in them feel a bit stiff but he enjoyed the sentiment more than he disliked the stiffness.

  
  


He pulled his hand away suddenly to grab Roman by the collar of his shirt and yank him down. He was monetarily startled, but low as he was now he felt Peter's nails scrape against his scalp and hold him down by his hair long enough to kiss him. It was unexpected but he definitely wasn't complaining. Roman dully registered that after this, if he kissed him again, he would taste like blood. When he finally pulled away, letting his fingers fall away from his hair he spoke.

  
  


“In case I murder you by accident. You deserve at least that.”

  
  


Despite the severity of the situation, Roman laughed at this. Still hovering awkwardly above him, he responded.

  
  


“Do you think that'll matter if I'm dead?”

  
  


“As a ghost, maybe.”

Letting out another short laugh he leaned down to kiss him again. For a few moments, they forgot what they were there for. They forgot that Roman was about to have to tie him up and force feed him some bizarre mixture of blood and tissue. They forgot about the end of the world, and the bunker they were in, the Order, the silently looming threat of Olivia probably somewhere in the distance. The only thing they remembered was how to kiss one another because both of them became absorbed enough in each others mouths they forgot everything else, Claire included. They forgot, until she cleared her throat loudly.

  
  


Disheveled and surprised, Roman tore himself away and sat up, running a hand over his clothes like he was trying to straighten them out even though they were pretty much fine. He ran another through his hair, like he was trying to hide the fact that Claire just walked in on them randomly making out. She raised a brow at the both of them, smirking, before throwing a rope at the bed and walking out.

  
  


“God damn it, Peter...” Roman mumbled.

  
  


“Don't blame this on me. You could've stopped any time.”

  
  


Roman didn't respond, he only looked the rope over in his hand for a moment. It seemed kind of old, maybe a little decaying. Peter hadn't really fought him much the last time so he hoped it would hold. Wordlessly, he helped him into a sitting position and then back against the metal headboard to tie his wrists to it. He hopped off the bed long enough to grab one of the blood filled flasks from the cooler.

  
  


  
  


The whole time, Peter watched him with a nervous sort of anticipation. He wasn't looking forward to this in any sense of the word. Not just what followed, but the fact that he seemed to completely lose himself every time this happened. He remembered _nothing_. He felt the urge to resist Roman as he pushed his chin up, gripping his jaw lightly to hold his head up as he poured the cold liquid down his throat. The taste of metal invaded his mouth and he felt it cold, yet burning, all the way down. Then there was a sudden surge of need, of hunger. A primal need to eat and feed. A power that spread all the way through his veins like some kind of horrible drug. He pulled at his bindings, but barely even registered that they were there; he just had to move. In the distance he heard a low growl, not entirely human and from some low and damned place in his body.

  
  


Bowing forward, struggling against the bindings, he snapped at any part of Roman that was close enough to him. He kept pulling, barely registering the pain in his shoulders or the dull hollow popping noise they made. He kept pulling until suddenly he was falling forward, and he swung his arms in front of him to catch himself. They made some horrible grinding sensation, made disgusting noises until he felt them shift back into place. It hurt, but they worked. He suddenly found himself on the floor, on top of Roman, with his teeth in his neck and blood in his mouth. Not the blood that he'd been given, but fresh from the source. Tasting of death and rot but he bit deeper, harder, needing it even though it was disgusting to him. A tainted milk that he used to feed from, feed his child, but it wasn't even his child now that he was feeding. He was just _hungry_.

  
  


  
  


He felt a sudden sharp pain in his hip and he found himself on his back. He registered it only by the fact that it happened, but he attempted to scramble up onto his feet again but found himself on all fours, trying to get back to the source of his meal before suddenly there was a door slammed in his face. With the promise of food suddenly gone he was feeling very exhausted. There was nothing left, nothing for him to eat. He found this tiredness almost woke him up, because suddenly, he was on the ground. On the ground, where he didn't remember being. On his hands and knees with the taste of death in his mouth and a pool of blood beneath him. But maybe a pool of blood was putting it lightly. It was running down his chin, his neck, soaking his shirt and smeared against the wood of the floor. From beneath him, where it lay in massive puddles until it looked as though something had been dragged through it, he saw droplets from further away. Like it had _sprayed_ from where it started. He only had a few moments to fear what he'd done, because exhaustion was quickly taking hold. It was no mere normal tiredness, he could see static beginning to fill his vision and his ears rang loudly like an alarm clock in his brain. He barely made it off the floor, crawling forward pathetically until everything ceased to exist and he was taken by darkness.

  
  


Roman had not fared much better. Not in anyway. He knew from the moment he'd given him the blood that something didn't seem right. The look he gave him was so animal that he wasn't certain he wasn't looking at the wolf. Roman didn't want to leave him, but with the way he kept trying to bite them, and the growls that seemed both human and animal, he was greatly reconsidering it. He gave thought to the thing about animals chewing their own legs off out of traps as he watched him keep pulling. Like he didn't even realize the ropes were there. Payed no mind when he snapped both shoulders from his sockets and used the awkward angle to slip free from the ropes. It was by miracle that he managed to put them back into place just by going for him. Roman took this as his key to leave, and keeping both eyes on him he backed away towards the edge of the bed.

  
  


But Peter was faster, and he lunged at him, knocking them both to the floor and using his weight to keep him down. He was _holding_ him down, lunging towards his neck and getting his teeth into it. And boy did he. He had no clue what unholy, supernatural strength had gotten into him but he gripped the skin of his neck in his teeth and pulled. He pulled hard enough to tear away skin, kept biting down harder, pulling out more. Destroying his neck until he felt an intense pressure and popping sensation. It all happened in a matter of seconds. He barely had time to realize he was on the floor before, with that pop, he dully registered a literal spray of blood and started to pulse from his neck. In time with heart beats, it sent streams across a fairly wide distance. It ran down his chest and side like a waterfall.

  
  


  
  


He himself barely registered the pain, it was just fear. He could feel the coldness starting to set in, the numbness in his limbs and the way his heart struggled. This wouldn't kill him, but it would get damn near close. If he didn't get out of this, Peter was going to literally try to eat him alive. He grabbed him by the hair, tried to pull his head away. He pushed at him with what strength he had left in his arms. He wouldn't _budge._ At this point he stopped fearing for Peter's safety and felt for his own. A desperate flight or fight response as he felt sensations so close to what he'd felt the first time he'd bled to death. He angled his leg under him and kicked up. He kicked him hard enough to send him back and didn't give him a second look as he dragged himself through the puddle and opened the door, slamming it shut moments later before crawling into the hallway.

  
  


  
  


  
  


He took in a rattling gasp and gripped at the side of his neck, and he could feel the ragged flesh and the way the blood squirted through his fingers and onto the floor. He couldn't breathe, each breath seemed to send fluid into his lungs. He was beginning to think Peter had gone deep enough to puncture into his throat, sending blood into his lungs. He let out a choking cough and sent it splattering along the floor. He didn't know where he was going but he crawled forward, hand against his neck, feeling the rhythmic pulse that stained the floor as he moved, but he needed to get somewhere. He needed to stop this bleeding. But to be honest, he was afraid. He was afraid to die, even though he knew it wouldn't kill him. He knew upirs were hard to kill. If one could be killed by an injury like this there would probably be far less of them. But he _felt_ like he was dying; the impending sense of doom and fear. He kept repeating a mantra in his head that he would live, that he would live long enough to get off this fucking floor and find help. But blood was slippery, and the minute he got up he ended up on the floor again.

  
  


  
  


Apparently this commotion finally brought Claire around the corner, who rushed to his side amidst curses and frantic yelling. Without warning she tore off her own shirt to tie it around his neck to staunch the bleeding.

  
  


“What the fuck happened?!” she asked, and Roman tried to answer her. He tried, but it came out some choked gagging noise that had him taking in a rattling, wheezing breath and spitting out blood. “It didn't hold!” he finally got out, shouting because it seemed to be the only thing he could do. She seemed to be considering something for a moment, frantically looking back and forth before she closed in and pushed her hand hard against his neck. She yelled for Paige, who rounded the corner moments later seeming momentarily shocked before pulling herself together.

  
  


“There's a first-aid kit in the bathroom,” Paige said, as she strode over to him with confidence and managed, with Claire's help, to pull him up.

  
  


“You'll live,” she said, and although it seemed as though how she said the words was her way of acting like the situation wasn't dire, she did actually seem somewhat concerned.

  
  


“I know,” he responded, with that same hoarse rattle.

  
  


“You're lucky you assholes are hard to kill.” He might have laughed at that statement if he could.

  
  


He ended up in the bathroom, sitting on the lid of the toilet and leaving trails of blood behind him in his wake. The whole situation seemed like something from an absurd movie. He was sitting there bleeding out while a woman wearing nothing but a bra and jeans, soaked with blood, held her hand to his neck while the other rummaged through the bathroom closet.

  
  


“Can you two show up here without leaving blood all over the damn house?” Paige asked as she pulled a fairly large box out of the closet and set it on the sink. Claire pushed his jacket from his shoulders to get it out of the way while Paige began untying the shirt from his neck. Claire held it there a moment longer before pulling it away. He felt the hot stickiness gush down his skin in rhythmic pulses before Paige quickly shoved several squares of gauze into the wound and held it there.

“You look like you went up against a meat grinder and lost,” Claire said sympathetically. Paige continued examining the wound the best she could, pulling down the collar of his shirt and finding that it was not conducive enough. She pulled a small pair of shears from the box and cut down the side of his shirt before ripping it in half and off of him. He didn't know why she had to go that far. He guessed that maybe it could still get in the way, though.

  
  


She pulled the bloodied gauze from the wound several moments later, throwing the soaked squares into the trash.

  
  


“You've stopped spraying blood everywhere at least,” she said, pulling out what appeared to be a length of fishing wire and a sewing needle. “Hold still.”

  
  


  
  


The needle going through his skin didn't hurt nearly as much as the fact that everything just seemed to be wide open in his neck. It hurt a bit more when she got to the insides, where shit was more sensitive, more raw and wrecked. But he'd been stabbed in the eyes with needles, he could take this.

  
  


“So what happened?” Claire asked, leaning against the edge of the bathtub.

  
  


“He went fucking feral,” he answered, finding that it sort of hurt to talk and speaking almost seemed foreign to him. It made him cough a little bit, to which Paige made an annoyed groaning noise towards. “He dislocated his own shoulders to get at me. I know he gets aggressive when I feed him but he's never done _this._ ” He paused to let out a slightly pained groan as Paige roughly smacked a very large and thick gauze square onto the wound and taped it to his neck. “I literally had to kick him off of me...God, I don't know where I hit him at but I don't know if it's safe for me to go look.”

  
  


“I'll check on him,” Paige said, not even giving him a chance to retort, to warn her to stay away in case he was still feral. She left without even bothering to clean up. Chances were she probably knew what she was walking into.

  
  


“It's close to the full moon,” Claire said as Roman watched the other woman leave. “He's probably gathering strength he's not even aware of. But since he can't turn ...I'm assuming, and because he doesn't follow the same laws...” she stopped, made some vague gesture at the air and continued. “You see where I'm going with this?”

  
  


Roman only nodded, but at this point something in him finally snapped. As he felt the pain in his neck, and the reasoning for it, and everything else on top of it, he suddenly began to cry.

  
  


“Roman...it's really not that bad. I mean, you'll _know_ next time. Well, getting your throat ripped out is pretty bad but you came out alright.”

  
  


“I don't give a shit about being hurt...” he sobbed. “But it's just one more thing, on top of everything. We can't get a fucking break. We're not safe from _anything_ , we're not even safe from ourselves. I'm trying so hard to stay strong for him, to not show any weakness, but I'm fucking terrified all the time. I don't want him to know...that I'm weak. That I can't cut it. He warned me and I said I could do it but everything's already gone so wrong, so fast.”

  
  


Awkward as it was, Claire hugged him suddenly, though the position was awkward and he was nearly face-planted in her tits but he appreciated the sentiment.

  
  


“I don't know much about your life, or what you've been through, but you _are_ strong.” she said, carding her fingers through his hair. “You stuck by him and you didn't have to. A lesser man would've given up. But you're strong enough to stick by him, even when it's hard as hell,”

  
  


“But when he really needs me I feel like I fail. I lost him the other day...I mean, he was taken, and I just froze. I couldn't do anything, I would've broken down had someone else not conveniently shown up and helped me get him out of there. What am I going to do when this happens again? What am I going to do when I'm between him and something horrible and I can't protect him?”

  
  


Claire let out a sigh, before suddenly Roman heard a separate voice from the doorway.

  
  


“You don't have to protect me...” Peter said, causing the both of them to pull away from each other in surprise. Peter was standing there, clothes stained in blood and his face haphazardly wiped away of whatever blood he could get.

“How long have you been there?”

  
  


“Long enough,” he said stepping inside. Roman saw Paige behind them momentarily before she gave him a sympathetic look and walked off.

  
  


“Are you okay?” Roman asked, leaning away from Claire as she stood up straighter. “I had to kick you off.”

  
  


“You kicked me in the hip, I think. I'm fine...I'm sorry,” he said almost breathless and hopeless. “That never should have happened and I-,”

  
  


“I shouldn't have stayed,” Roman said, swiping a hand over his eye, finding too late that he smeared blood across his eyebrow. “Paige told you?”

  
  


“Yeah...I woke up pretty freaked out.”

  
  


  
  


Because of course, Peter had passed out rather quickly after Roman left. Barely time to consider what he'd done. He awoke with a start to someone gently calling his name, shaking his shoulder, waking up covered in blood, with death in his mouth and confusion in his head. He couldn't remember getting there, only the vague remembrance of him being there before he suddenly was nowhere.

  
  


“What the hell happened?”

  
  


“You had a scuffle...Do you feel alright?”

  
  


“I'm fine, what the fuck kind of a scuffle? Where is all this blood from?” For a moment he could only think that maybe something had gone wrong with one of the flasks or bloodbags. Maybe they had somehow spilled...everywhere. But he remembered being on the bed, and he couldn't explain the pain in his shoulders or his hip. Or the taste of rot on his tongue.

  
  


“You bit Roman, and he asked me to make sure you-, no that's not true. He was worried about you and I elected to come check.”

  
  


“I...how? How did I even get to him? How the fuck did all this blood-,”

  
  


“You dislocated your shoulders to get out of the bindings, and then you came for him, is all he told me. The blood is...well, if he was human, he'd be dead right now.”

  
  


If Peter wasn't already afraid of not knowing what happened when he fed, he was now. Somehow he'd almost _killed_ Roman and not even known it. But what had he done?

  
  


“I need to know what I did...What I did to him,” he said, his voice coming out a little hoarse. Paige let out an uncertain sigh, running a hand through her hair; the one that didn't have blood on it, he assumed from where she'd touched him.

  
  


“You went for his throat...You tore open his jugular and punctured his esophagus. It's...pretty bad.”

  
  


“I did that to him and he's still worried about me?” he said in disbelief.

  
  


“You or the baby.”

  
  


“I need to see him. Where is he?”

  
  


“In the bathroom. I had to give him stitches, but I think he might be kind of afraid of you right now. Are you sure you want to try to talk to him?”

  
  


“Yes, please take me to him, or at least tell me where I can find him.”

  
  


Paige stood from where she sat, and offered a hand to him which he took somewhat begrudgingly. Outside was no better. He could see where blood had been shooting out of him in several instances before the trail became small to non existent at the end of the hallway. Paige led him down until they heard voices and she put her arm in front of him to stop him. He had just barely caught the middle of a conversation about Roman feeling weak. He couldn't help but feel bad, to truly know the burden he was shouldering. It almost made him want to run away again, so that he didn't have to put him through this, but it was a fleeting thought. He knew running would only make it worse for both of them. In reality the conversation was quite short, but it seemed like he'd said so much by the time he stepped in.

  
  


  
  


He could not quite describe, or maybe he just wanted to ignore it, the burning feeling in the pit of his stomach when he saw his face buried in Claire's breasts, though he knew the act was purely platonic. He could not explain what that feeling had been before it was replaced by pity. After a few moments of talking, Claire took her leave and left the two of them alone as she shut the door behind her.

  
  


There he sat on the lid of the toilet, shirtless and covered in blood with a gauze square taped to his neck. He looked tired, paler than he usually did. His eyes were of course red and slightly puffy from the crying he'd just been doing. The first thing he could think to do was to pull him into his arms, again finding he seemed so small. Unperceptive at first but somehow the both of them ended up on the floor in front of the toilet rather than on it. He gripped him so hard, to remember that he was there, that there was no way he could disappear, despite what he'd done. He cried against his blood stained shirt and Peter buried his nose into the crook between his neck and shoulder, his own eyes wet with tears that threatened to spill.

  
  


“I'm so sorry...” he said quietly. “I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for what I did to you...”

  
  


“I'm fine,” Roman said muffled against his chest. “You don't have to worry about me.”

  
  


“I heard what you said and I...fuck, I wish I wasn't here. I wish I didn't have to put you through this. It would have been better for both of us if I'd just left...”

  
  


“No!” Roman said with a startled, almost gurgled shout. “No, Peter, I...I'm so afraid of losing you, all the time. Do you think if you were gone I suddenly wouldn't give a shit? You know I'd try to find you.”

  
  


“I know...”

  
  


“Then why do you have to talk like that?”Roman asked, pulling away from him long enough to look at him.

  
  


“Because I almost fucking killed you. You would've been dead and that would have been on _me,_ and I've already put you through so much shit. You don't deserve this. You can be a real asshole sometimes but you don't need this.”

  
  


“I don't care,” Roman said with a sob. “I'm scared and I'm tired, and I'm hurt...but even if shit was fine, it wouldn't matter to me if you were gone. I'd rather suffer with you than without.”

  
  


“You're a fucking idiot,” Peter said with a sigh, though his words weren't quite sincere. He gripped both sides of his face, to kiss him and taste and feel blood on every part of him. In his mouth, his fingertips. The skin of his back where Roman had touched him, with blood drying sticky on his flesh. “I'm not worth this...”

  
  


“You are,” Roman reassured.

  
  


“How could you love someone who tried to rip out your throat? How are you going to sit here and just tell me that's okay? It's not okay...”

  
  


“No, it's not. It's not _okay_ but I don't care if it is anymore. Nothing's fucking normal anymore anyway. Why not just start swapping the meaning of words.”

  
  


The sigh Peter let out was defeated and annoyed, and he leaned it against Roman's shoulder and felt the stickiness of it on his skin.

  
  


“If you're going to be stupid, can you at least be stupid and clean? We both need a shower and I'm on a time limit.”

  
  


“Are you sure you're cool with me seeing you naked?”

  
  


“I'm not...but I'll make an exception,” he said pulling off his shirt as he pulled away from Roman. “I'm not okay with everything that's happened but right now I feel disgusting and I really need a shower.”

  
  


Peter had undressed quickly, gotten in first, eager to hide himself from Roman who probably did not care, he had much worse things to worry about. When he entered he saw the gauze now missing from his neck, and the carnage beneath. Of course it was not quite bad as it was when it happened, but what was not stitches was bruised and bloodied. Shredded teeth marks and ragged skin strips. Disgusting as it was, he wrapped is arm around Roman's waist to pull him closer and kiss the part of his neck that had been wounded.

  
  


On attempting to kiss him on the mouth he found that shower sex and what came before it was not nearly as glamorous in real life. He kissed him beneath the spray, and the water got into his hair, somehow his eyes, and into his nose. Everything was exceptionally wet and ever changing and at the moment all Peter cared about was the blood on his skin. So they were intimate in another way. Of soft touches that did little more than to wash away the blood. To find his way to Roman's shoulder, to lean against it and let him hold him beneath the warmth of the water in hopes that this closeness would somehow mend something that only Peter was concerned with. He was desperate for forgiveness even if in the mind of the victim there was nothing to forgive.

  
  


  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im sorryi 'm an angst factory forgive me


	15. Caricature of Intimacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of gross. It makes reference and talks about , well, basically, anything that comes with food poisoning. I left the scenes sort of vague but it's there. Because I'm incapable of not writing shit no one wants to read about.
> 
> Other than that there is some art at the bottom of of the bunker and the absolute mess Roman made all over it, plus a pic of his stitches

Roman got kicked out of the bathroom minutes after they got out of the shower, glad to at least have been able to put his pants back on before he ended up in the hallway. He now had the task of running outside, wet hair and half naked to get the clothes from the van that he had neglected to get before. He noted when he came back, to throw the bag into the room and pull on a shirt that most of the blood was cleaned up. It still stained somewhat, a grim reminder of what had taken place there, for a couple of strangers in the home of a few wayward werewolves. It at least helped him find his room easier. But where was everyone else? He still had to speak to Claire, despite his near-death experience. It left him craving a lot more iron though, and he ended up downing half a flask of the blood from the cooler.

  
  


  
  


As he went in search of life around the bunker he was beginning to realize just how cold it felt. Cold and lifeless. The bathroom was the only room that wasn't all made of concrete. The bedroom they shared for the moment seemed to have some semblance of life in it; a bed, night stands, a bizarre painting of spheres...It was like they were trying to make the place look like a home, but focusing on very specific aspects. But of course that wasn't their main concern, he was sure. Claire hadn't told him _why_ their house was gone, just that it was. He found the living room after forever searching and found Claire sitting on the couch, watching what he had to assume was a DVD. Upon seeing him enter she quickly paused it and gave him her attention.

  
  


“Roman...Shouldn't you be resting or something?”

  
  


“I'm okay...” he said, giving a vague gesticulation. “I came here for a reason and Peter told me to fuck off so there's nothing else I can do.”

  
  


“Right...news, or something?”

  
  


“Yes...” Roman said, coming to the couch to sit down. As he sat he realized just how dizzy he had been standing. Maybe he wasn't quite as okay as he thought he was. “The world has gone to shit up there. What happened to my car? It's because of that. There are fucking Hell spawn coming for populated areas and wiping them out, from what I can tell. I've got a guy working on how to stop it but ...I'd rather not be above ground right now. I don't want to stick around here longer than I have to, no offense but we don't need to get you guys caught up in our bullshit.”

  
  


“You kind of already did...” Claire said with a hint of annoyance. “You're technically the reason our house is gone.”

  
  


“Fuck, seriously? How?”

  
  


“Paige...Paige was trying to hold you guys until The Order could come get you. She made a deal with them to keep us safe, to be their lackeys and do what they needed when they called on her. But she saw what they were trying to do and told them to fuck off, that's why she tried to get you guys out of here so fast. They molotov'd the house minutes after she revealed that she had a fucking bunker tunnel under the house.”

  
  


“Christ...That doesn't make me feel much better. Can we really trust her, then?”

  
  


“She put _all_ of us in danger to save the two of _you._ You can trust her more than we can trust her.”

  
  


“She has a funny way of showing she cares about us...”

  
  


“Look...like most werewolves, she doesn't like upirs. It's basic history. I think she's coming around, though. You're really not so bad.”

  
  


“Thanks...” he mumbled.

  
  


“So you say you've got a guy...Is this all there is to the story? Because it kind of sounds like you're leaving shit out.”

  
  


Roman kept his mouth shut for a minute, not sure if he should really explain to her the rest of the situation. But maybe it would help if he did. She'd already admitted it was their fault they were now living underground, though. What if this made it worse? But then Roman had the thought; why did he care so much? He could remember times when he wouldn't have. That really, it wasn't his problem, but it was. It was his problem; he made this happen, technically, and now he was fucking hiding.

  
  


“It's...It's kind of my fault,” he trailed off. “The guy who took my daughter is dead now, and she's home, and safe...but he fucked her up. She'll never have kids or have a normal life because he took her ovaries and used them for some fucked up breeding project, so he could bring back his race from extinction or some shit. Those things out there..it's because of her, and him, and it's because of me. Because I was the one who sent -...” he stalled, not sure if he should get into that can of worms. “It doesn't matter. It's my fault in the long run...And it's probably my fault that those fucked up vargulfs and upirs are out there, because this shit wasn't happening until my daughter went missing.”

  
  


“You shouldn't blame yourself too much, Roman...That's like saying the parents of every major villain in history were to blame for what they did.”

  
  


“I just feel like I should've done more to stop this from ever happening in the first place...”

  
  


“Don't beat yourself up,” Claire said, reaching across to gently place her hand across the one settled on his knee. She squeezed lightly in an attempt to get him to pay attention and calm down. “You 're doing pretty well for yourself considering your upbringing. Upir, I mean. You're so different from every one of them I know. You _care_. You may feel emotions too deeply, but you care.” She took her hand away and clapped him lightly on the back as she finished. “Don't worry, you killed one, right? That's one down.”

  
  


She was right, technically, but he couldn't find the words to respond to her. Instead he stood from the couch and pulled his phone from his pocket, making his way towards the door.

  
  


“You're right...but I need to make a phone call,” he said, and she bid him a brief farewell before he found his way back to the entrance of the bunker, to sit on the steps at the top so he could get enough service. He needed to talk to Pryce. The phone wrung forever, and every single ring only sent a chill of panic down his spine that Pryce had fallen to the beast he now held in his lab. When he finally answered Roman had to stop himself from sighing in relief.

  
  


“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Pryce asked, but he could tell by his voice that he was a little annoyed with this call. Probably for the usual reasons; the fact that Pryce told him not to call him too much and he'd been doing that for what seemed like months now. Had it been months? A few, maybe.

  
  


“Those things you let loose are causing all kinds of Hell,” Roman said, his voice coming out slightly raspy as he spoke. It was not anything of an emotional issue, more or less the still healing wound in is throat.

  
  


“Yes, I've heard the news...They seemed to have bypassed much of Hemlock Grove though.”

  
  


“Yeah, well, I killed one of the fuckers so that's one down. It doesn't take much. I just ran it over with the van. But I want you to do something for me. Can you do that?”

  
  


“It depends on what it is you're asking me.”

  
  


“I know that you said the town's been bypassed but The White Tower still seems like one of the safest places there. I want you to get Shelley and bring her there until it all blows over. Tell her I'm the one who sent you if you need to. And see if you can convince Destiny to join you, too. Peter will have my ass if I let anything happen to her.”

  
  


“Consider it attempted. Are the two of you staying safe?”

  
  


“Yeah, we figured these things would be looking for food in populated areas so...we're basically in a bunker.”

  
  


“Are you sure?” Pryce said. “Forgive me for making assumptions but you sound a bit off.”

  
  


“Yeah, I had my fuckin' throat ripped out but I'm fine.”

  
  


“By one of the creatures? How on Earth did you survive?”

  
  


“No, by Peter. It's a long story.” He cleared his throat slightly as he put his hand to the wound that he could feel becoming somewhat damp again. There was a trace amount of blood on his hand but it was minimal compared to what he'd been through before. “But you keep my family safe. And Destiny. Fuck Olivia. Don't make me come back there and kick your ass. But now you don't need to study that thing so much to figure out how it dies. Do you have any idea how you're going to get The Order off of us?”

  
  


“The threat of something much greater might help me in the task to show them that the two of you are not exactly dangerous but I can't promise that it will help.”

  
  


“Just get it done,” Roman commanded, ending with “Or whatever the fuck you can do, but don't half ass it.” He gave him a quick farewell before ending the call and putting the phone back in his pocket. For a moment that almost felt normal. Telling Pryce what to do, like an employer again. It's not like he wasn't grateful for his help but he was also stressed.

  
  


He felt like he was making the rounds at this point. Going through the motions, like everything was just so fucked up at this point that it was second nature. Broke the news to Claire, told Pryce to get his ass in gear, and now he was heading back downstairs to go find Peter. God knows he probably wanted to be left alone but he felt it was his duty to make sure he was okay. Thankfully he'd relocated back to the bedroom, where he looked rather pallid and seemed to be in some amount of pain, but also incredibly bored. Lying on his side with a pillow shoved between his legs and against his abdomen.

  
  


“Trying to drink your blood was a huge mistake,” Peter said as he entered.

  
  


“Really?” Roman said, settling on the bed next to him. “Because these stitches say it was a great idea. Nothing makes you feel more alive than being half dead.”

  
  


“Look, I'm glad you didn't lose your sense of humor with all of that blood, but can you shut the fuck up?” he said, practically groaning from either pain or annoyance from Roman trying to make shitty jokes. “My insides are on fire. It's like I drank acid.” He buried his face against the pillow for a moment, eyes closed and seemingly in concentration for a moment before he let out a heavy breath. “I'm trying so hard not to throw up...because if I throw up I'll probably shit myself and that's just really inconvenient.”

  
  


“Haven't you ever had food poisoning before? You're supposed keep a trash can in front of you.”

  
  


“Yes, I have, you know I have, and I don't know if you've fucking noticed but I'm in bed not in the bathroom. How the fuck would you know?”

  
  


“You think I've never had it before? Just because I grew up with money doesn't mean sometimes something didn't end up slightly too off date or under cooked.”

  
  


As much as Roman joked with him, he was sort of worried about him. It seemed like every time they did this, Peter got sicker. He was beginning to wonder if feeding him actual human flesh would be easier on him than this. Roman was five steps away from going out and killing for him if it would mean he wasn't so sick. 'I'd kill for you' was not just an expression anymore. Not with how they lived. But he knew that Peter probably was much sicker because of all the blood he'd ingested that he _wasn't_ supposed to. Roman didn't know much about what upir blood was like. He knew he'd tasted his mothers but it wasn't drinking it so much as it was just minimal amounts, and he had suddenly been starved and seized with supernatural power.

  
  


Peter was different, though. He was more human than him, with upir tendencies like the craving and needing of blood. Roman didn't think upirs were supposed to eat other upirs and so because Peter was almost exhibiting traits of them so it may have been hitting him harder. But Roman didn't realize just how bad it was for him. Peter was shy about this kind of thing, rightfully so. He talked about it but not much. He definitely didn't want Roman around him, as would be the norm for most people but Peter was almost aggressively against it.

  
  


  
  


So it wasn't until later in the day when Roman got an unexpected text as he was sitting on the top step, with the door open, having a much needed smoke and finding that when he did smoke some of it was seemed to seep through his neck, that Peter was very, truly ill. Because he went against everything he normally practiced and asked him for help. It took him a minute to figure out what the fuck he was saying due to all the auto-correct but he got the gist that if someone wasn't there to make sure he stayed conscious he was probably going to break his nose on the tile and aspirate in either blood or vomit.

  
  


Roman was nervous for a number of reasons, one of which was that Peter might change his mind by the time he got there and tear him a new asshole but there wasn't much he could _physically_ do to him, he supposed, other than being bitched out. But by the time he got there, Peter seemed so exhausted that even if he was angry at him he might not have the energy to tell him off. The shirt he was wearing was nearly soaked through with sweat and he looked as though he was pale enough to be a ghost.

  
  


“Jesus Christ...” Roman said as he shut the door behind him.

  
  


“If you say one word about this after this is over I'll kick you ass...” Peter mumbled, his words slightly slurred.

  
  


Roman didn't answer him, only went to get a stool from a far wall to sit on, noting briefly the smears of blood on the floor and sink, and the copious amounts in the trash can that was nearby. He wasn't sure what was from him or Peter at this point. He wasn't sure how concerned he should be that he was vomiting this much blood. It _was_ the only thing he'd ingested but how much was too much? Furthermore, had he truly ingested any of this? He had to hope he at least god some of what he was supposed to into his system, but he was honestly worried what might happen if his blood ended up going to the baby. If it made Peter this sick, what would happen if it got into the womb? But maybe the reason it made him so sick was his body's way of trying to stop too much of it from going there. However, he had seen women smoke and drink while pregnant and it didn't make much of a difference to their digestive system.

  
  


  
  


It seemed like Roman stayed in that bathroom for hours with him, but it probably wasn't all that long. It gave him a new definition of the word intimacy. Intimacy seemed to be reserved for sex most of the time, for which they'd of course had plenty, but maybe intimacy was something different. Like being in a situation no one truly wants to be in but fighting through it because it was important. In a situation that for at least Peter, was something very private, and something he did _not_ want Roman there for but he had allowed him to be there (despite the fact that Roman didn't really want to, if he was honest; who would) because he had to. Peter definitely wasn't happy about it. He went from two extremes of being pissed off and crying, mostly from embarrassment, but that was only when he had a brief moment of clarity and wasn't a few seconds from passing out.

  
  


  
  


At one point, after realizing he couldn't sit there for much longer, he resolved to try to go back to the bedroom to lay down but found that it was all too exhausting to try knowing he'd have to come back here in a few minutes anyway. So he ended up on the floor in Roman's lap after he'd relocated there for him, but too much maneuvering to get comfortable ended up knocking the both of them flat and he ended up somewhere on Roman's chest and refused to move. It was uncomfortable as hell but he would manage. He managed until the time that Peter very poorly attempted to get off of him and then ended up throwing up on him, and in shock he very quickly rolled him off and sat up.

  
  


“Jesus!” he said, stripping off the shirt before it had a chance to sink in and actually get to him, despite the fact that it was mostly just blood and spit.

  
  


“I fucking tried,” Peter said, pushing himself up a bit more.

  
  


“I guess it's practice for having a kid...”

  
  


“Did you seriously just compare me to a baby?” Peter asked, and he tried to look angry but it kind of failed. He just looked miserable. Shirt half undone and his hair a wreck from the several times Roman had to hold it back, not to mention it was slightly damp, hanging in his face. He held himself up with only his arms and Roman was vaguely reminded of that oh-so famous scene from The Little Mermaid when she dragged herself onto that rock, but Peter was less of a mermaid and more of a very sick dog that had its back legs inexplicably paralyzed. Roman laughed at the comparison, suddenly and loudly.

  
  


“The fuck is so funny?”

  
  


“You look like a fucked up version of The Little Mermaid,” Roman responded, trying hard to keep it together but Peter righted himself and kicked him in the knee and it only made him laugh harder. He scooted back to lean against the small column of the sink and glared daggers at him.

  
  


“I don't even know how you managed to come to that conclusion.”

  
  


“You're not very intimidating right now,” Roman told him. “You just look sick. Maybe a little attractive.”

  
  


“This is attractive to you?”

  
  


“It's the shirt, and the hair, kind of. But you mostly just look sick.”

  
  


“Yeah, I guess you wouldn't have been able to tell I was sick before this,” Peter said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Glad you think looking gross as fuck is attractive. Maybe I'll just skip the ten showers I'm going to need after this.”

  
  


“Please don't. I still have to sleep next to you.”

  
  


“You can sleep on the couch if you're going to be a fucking dick.”

  
  


A few traded, good-natured insults later and at least another half hour of everything Peter had ever eaten trying to leave his body in the most aggressive of ways, he seemed to be mostly over the worst of it. He kicked Roman out soon after and he would be lying if he wasn't sort of thankful for that. He'd be there for him but that didn't mean he had to like it. Peter snuck back into the bedroom sometime that night in a towel so that he could rummage through the bag again and find his second change of clothes that day. Most of what he found was not his for some reason and after getting tired of digging for an eternity he pulled on a pair of boxers and one Roman's t-shirts which fit him very poorly. He had only been half paying attention, scrolling his phone in boredom and finding very little service, but happened to look up when Peter crawled into bed.

  
  


“Did you run out of shirts?”

  
  


“Probably,” he said turning to face him. “Or you didn't bring enough in. I think I need bigger shirts...this is a lot more comfortable.”

  
  


“If the world's still surviving by the time we get out of here I'll buy you some,” Roman responded, scooting towards him and letting his hand settle on his side, “Or you could just wear mine.”

  
  


“I don't want to be that person,” Peter said, watching him with a little bit of nervous attention.

  
  


“What person?” he asked, and though it was idle he found his hand snaking it's way underneath his shirt to settle on his skin. Peter grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him away rather quickly when he got too close to his stomach.

  
  


“Sorry,” Roman said, backing away slightly.

  
  


“The kind of person who wears...” Peter made some vaguely annoyed noise, “I don't want to say 'boyfriend's shirts' because it's going to give you ideas, but that person...and just because you told me you love me doesn't mean you can touch me like that.”

  
  


Roman tried to ignore Peter's comment about boyfriend shirts in favor for the thing about not touching him. He wasn't really sure if he should respond to that or not. It was probably an entire can of worms he didn't want to open. Peter probably didn't care _why_ Roman wanted to do it because it was an invasion of his privacy but...

  
  


“Do you remember when Letha was pregnant, and you couldn't keep your hands off her?” He half expected Peter to be pissed off about this, but instead he just looked sad.

“I remember...”

  
  


“Well, I...I feel like it's kind of a reflex. And with Nadia, you know, obviously I couldn't have any sort of contact like that, the way you did with her. But I _know_ this kid is mine and shit, sometimes I don't want to keep my hands off you. You're so fucking incredible...”

  
  


Peter seemed annoyed by this but he gripped his hand and rather roughly pushed it against the front of his shirt, perhaps to show that he wasn't happy about this but he'd allow it.

  
  


“Above the shirt,” Peter said, trying to avoid eye contact. “That's it.”

  
  


“That works,” Roman said, a little startled. Peter moved a little closer to him so that he didn't have to reach as far and Roman left his hand there. He didn't want to say anything because he was worried Peter might tell him to fuck off again. But now that he was touching him here, despite the fact that he'd done it the night before, it was really starting to further cement the idea that there was really something growing there. Sitting low on his pelvic bone he could tell by feeling it at least the contrast between his actual stomach and wherever this makeshift womb was sitting. It was a lot firmer than the rest of that area.

  
  


“Has it moved since you drank my blood?” Roman asked somewhat nervously.

  
  


“Yes, I think...It's kind of hard to tell between digestion and whatever the hell it's doing in there but I think so. I was worried too...”

  
  


This was kind of a relief for him, but Roman was still worried. He knew that it was alive, thank God, but he could only hope that this didn't cause any lasting effects in its development. That it didn't come out sickly and deformed. But that only put yet another question into his mind. What were they going to do when it came time to be born?

  
  


“Do you have any idea who's going to get this thing out of you?” Roman asked.

  
  


“I'm assuming I am...” Peter replied, somewhat confused.

  
  


“I mean delivering it...Because I'm not confident in my ability of delivering babies.”

  
  


“I don't want you down there unless it's an emergency...” Peter said, which Roman had to admit made him a little relieved. He wasn't confident that he could do it without freaking out but he would if he needed to.

  
  


“Maybe if we could coordinate it where we're close enough, I could get Pryce to come find us...Shit, we're going to need a better place than this van, though, and I don't think we should be in a hotel either or they'll probably call the cops.”

  
  


“I don't know if I want Pryce to do it...I know he's technically a medical professional but he's also someone who gets off on weird shit and I don't really want to give him the satisfaction. I don't like being looked at by someone I don't know like some kind of fucking science experiment...Or just doctors in general.”

  
  


“Then what do you want? To do it by yourself?”

  
  


“No...I don't think I could. If I could choose anyone, I think I'd choose Destiny.”

  
  


“Does she know how to deliver a baby...?”

  
  


“Destiny does about everything under the sun for enough money. I've seen her go off and deliver babies for cash, for people who are trying to not go to the hospital but they don't actually want to deal with hiring a midwife. So...yes. I'm not totally comfortable with her staring at my junk for hours but she knows me, way more than Pryce or any doctor would. She doesn't make me uncomfortable in the fact that it feels like she's not looking at everything I try to hide.”

  
  


“Okay, so...we'll talk to Destiny. But we need to coordinate this so we're not far enough that it'll take her hours to get there.”

  
  


“We need a place to stay that isn't a van... I guess it _could_ work but it would make things a lot more risky.”

  
  


“We could ditch the van and get an RV...”

  
  


“Do you know how big those things are? There's special parking for those things. You can't just drive those everywhere.”

  
  


“Well...we could get an RV and pay to have it parked somewhere, ditch the van when we need to and get close enough so that Destiny can come to us.” With this, Peter was silent for a moment before responding almost begrudgingly.

  
  


“That's...shit, that's actually a really good plan. Do you know how to drive an RV?”

  
  


“I'll figure it out.” Roman said, causing Peter to give out a short chuckle that Roman didn't entirely understand until a moment later.

  
  


“Sometimes I forget that despite the fact that we've been living in a van for the last few months that you're actually a millionaire and can just go out and buy an RV...”

  
  


“I'd do it sooner if it wouldn't paint a target on our backs and be a pain in the ass to drive. It'd be a lot more convenient.”

  
  


“God what I wouldn't give to just piss whenever I feel like it...This motherfucker's always sitting on my bladder.”

  
  


“What's stopping you from doing that now?”

  
  


“Common decency.”

  
  


“Look...after what I just dealt with today, I don't give a shit if you piss in a cup. I won't make you if you need to...”

  
  


“What the fuck did I say about kicking your ass if you ever brought that up again?”

  
  


“Don't you think you've already kicked my ass enough today?”

  
  


“Sorry...” Peter said remorsefully. Roman suddenly felt his hand on the back of his neck, his fingers trailing near the stitches. “Does it hurt?”

  
  


“Yes,” he said, bringing the hand that was currently against Peter's stomach to gently grip his wrist to pull his hand away. “You wouldn't notice if a bus hit you.” He gripped his hand lightly, to which Peter instinctively entwined both of their fingers as their hands settled between them, and Peter let out an undignified laugh at the comment that only made Roman's heart grow fonder.

_**ART** _

 

_**The Bedroom:** _

_**** _

_**The hallway to the bedroom** _

 

_**The Bathroom** _

 

_**** _

 

_**The Livingroom:** _

 

_**** _

 

_**The Kitchen (though it hasn't been referenced yet)** _

 

_**** _

 

_**Stitches and smokeblowing:** _

 

_**** _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman's model has given me more trouble again and so it may change a few times if you ever see it again because I have found it is not entirely accurate and I am a horrible perfectionist. 
> 
> Also, the word fuck and it's variants has now been said 723 times and makes up 2892 characters


	16. Te Amo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's art at the bottom of this page. It was gonna be porn but I didn't like the way it turned out so I'mma leave it gone  
> edit:   
> Again I want to thank people who comment here and I apologize for not responding because I'm a shy fucker
> 
> I probably don't deserve all the comments I get here but I really do appreciate them and they really help me to continue so...again, thank you, and sorry that I don't actually respond but like once in a blue moon

It took a few days for the both of them to realize that the blood had taken well, and Peter seemed to be out of the danger zone for organ failure. But Roman wasn't fairing quite as well. As an upir it would have been expected that his injury heal rather quickly, but it had not healed much yet. It had healed to the point where he no longer bled and leaked smoke from his wounds but it was still there, a very horrible reminder to Peter of what he had done. Roman didn't seem quite as bothered about it as Peter did, though. Still, after a few days, Peter was very guilty.

  


In his mind he was still constantly begging for forgiveness, from himself, from Roman...He felt he needed to redeem himself in some way despite the fact that Roman literally didn't care. But at current, he was not only worried about his injury but the fact that he decided he was going to take off with Claire, Max, Dustin, and a possibly illegal amount of hunting firearms on some misguided, stupid as fuck rescue mission. He was sitting in the kitchen after stealthily trying to find something to eat because he felt kind of bad taking their food despite the fact that they told him to, with half a bowl of cereal and an unholy craving for a pickle. He hadn't expected anyone to show up and bother him but he had been wrong.

  


“You do not need to worry so much, little wolf, he does not mind.”

  


“Jesus _fuck_!” Peter shouted, clearly surprised that someone had entered the room. “You have got to stop doing that.”

  


“I do not remember doing this more than once,” she responded, rounding the table to sit on the other side of it.

  


“I mean the whole cryptic psychic shit. I get enough of that from my cousin.”

  


“What about what was said was cryptic?” she asked, tracing the table idly with her long and pointed fingernail. Peter saw her point and decided he wasn't going to try to argue with her, instead responding to the first thing she'd said.

  


“Just because he doesn't care doesn't mean I don't feel like shit...” he said, pushing the spoon around the bowl in an attempt to distract himself, because despite the fact that he was hungry it wasn't what he wanted. “I could have killed him.”

  


“You would not have. I knew when it had happened, he was injured, but his life force was strong. Just like the little bun,” she said, gesturing towards him. “Very strong.”

  


“So if you know he's not pissed off, even though I already knew that, can you at least tell me he's not going to get himself killed?”

  


“I cannot tell you that because he is too far from here. But if I may give an advice...It would be easier for both if you would just ...” she stalled “Your feelings, eh....accept.”

  


“Accept what?”

  


“Your feelings. Do you speak not English?” she asked him, her tone annoyed and animated. He had to assume she was asking if he didn't speak English, which clearly he did, and she was annoyed that he didn't get her reference.

  


“I meant what feelings?” Peter said, exasperated.

  


“You may not realize it, but you do love him, in your own way,” she said, before standing from the table and not elaborating any further. She left Peter sitting bewildered and conflicted. Some psychic, he definitely did _not_ love Roman. He was just...confused. Begrudgingly, he finished up what was left of the soggy cereal in the bowl and and placed it in the sink with the rest of the dishes, returning to his room to further deny anything she had said to him.

  


  


Meanwhile, somewhat far from the bunker and on the road to the closest town, Max sat somewhat angrily alongside Dustin who seemed to be more or less apathetic to the whole situation, upon the mattress that Roman spent most of his nights.

  


“I can't believe Paige is letting you do this...” Max said, more specifically to Claire, who was driving, than anyone.

  


“Yeah, well I can't either. You must be something special, Roman...” she said.

  


“Did you forget it was your idea?” Roman asked, looking down at his phone and the digital map upon it. He had been texted by Lana, who mentioned the Godforsaken flying hell-spawn that they'd run into nearby and she had asked if he'd found a safe place to stay. Apparently being in nothing more than a small car was becoming increasingly dangerous for them and she had asked for his help. He had offhandedly mentioned it to Claire, who although initially suspicious, after having learned of Lana's former heroism she suggested bringing them back to the bunker.

  


Unfortunately for them there was no longer any room in the bunker and Paige did _not_ want them sleeping in it, but Roman offered them the van to sleep in and Paige relented enough that they could use the bunker itself for whatever the van didn't have, which was mostly just the ability to use the running water. Even Claire was surprised, having thought that they would have to fight much harder to offer them safety. Judging by the danger these things posed, though, they'd brought along the only to people who knew anything about how to properly use a gun. Roman was generally not a good shot, as lucky as he had been that one time.

  


They had parked their car somewhere past Springhaven in the hopes that they'd be less likely to be found, judging that they were not somewhere populated. The drive through Springhaven was much different than it was the last time. Roman was beginning to see the effects of what could be a possibly apocalyptic situation. The stores were closed, the town was empty. The business district, at least. Not a single car drove on that road but their own, and the wind pushed along detritus from knocked over trash cans no one wanted to right, like unintentionally manmade tumbleweeds. He found himself hoping that the reason this town seemed so dead was because they were all at home, abandoning their businesses in such a trying time, for now at least. He hoped it was not because the town, and it's people, were _truly_ dead.

  


“You weren't kidding...” Claire said, surveying the silence of the town as well. “This is bigger than I thought.”

  


“We need to solve this shit quick...” Roman said, still looking down at the phone in his hand. “Peter wants his cousin there for the delivery but it's not safe for any of us to travel close enough to her right now, much less her come to us.”

  


“You've got time though, right? I mean what, he's like, three or so months?”

  


“He's far enough that the thing is moving...Pryce already told us there's no chance in Hell this thing will wait nine months.”

  


“You know you could stay with us for a while, if you need to. I'm sure Paige wouldn't mind helping him out.”

  


“Unless either of you know how to deliver a kid I don't think it's going to matter. But I think he really just wants his family to be there.”

  


“Kate might,” Max said from the back.

  


“Kate does _not_ know how to deliver babies,” Claire responded.

  


“Yeah but she's into all that New Age, Earthy crystal shit. Maybe she could figure it out.”

  


“I think there's more to it than that, Max.”

  


“What's so hard about squeezing a watermelon outta your cooch?” Max asked.

  


“I mean it might have something to do with the fact that he's a _guy_ and doesn't have one of those but you don't want to rip the things head off trying to get it out.”

  


“He kind of does,” Roman said, half paying attention and still having half his attention absorbed by the map. “Shit, forget I said that.”

  


“What do you mean he has a...a cooch?” Claire said, trying to phrase it similarly to Max.

  


“I mean it's not a girl pussy but it's ...something. Don't let him know I said that, he's pretty self conscious about it.”

  


“Pussy is such an ugly word,” Max scoffed.

  


“Wait,” Claire said, ignoring Max's comments from the back. “How does that even work? Where does it even go?”

  


“The same place his balls used to be,” Roman said, vague as he could be without revealing much. “I think we're getting close.”

  


“So what, do you just wake up one morning with no balls if you're a pregnant dude?” Max asked.

  


“I wish that's what happened...”

  


“Look, Roman, you know we're just going to keep asking you if you don't spill the beans on how this shit works. This is some crazy science-fiction bullshit to us, we want to know.” Claire said, ignoring the fact that Roman to not want to talk about it. He let out an annoyed sigh and finally looked away from his phone long enough to speak.

  


“It happened at the worst time imaginable. Trying to get away from The Order. I told you he was kidnapped, I didn't say how we got out of there, though. That's why Lana drove and not me...” he paused, hoping that it would be enough for them. It wasn't.

  


“And? Do I have to pull your teeth, Roman?” Claire asked, annoyed.

  


“Everything just...ripped open and melted off, and it was gross and way too exposed. I saw things I never wanted to see in my life, and I've eaten people.” Claire gave him a look that he didn't quite understand until he realized what he'd said. “You know what I am, Claire, this can't be a surprise to you. They were already dead...or synthesized in a lab. Peter's eaten people too, so before you look at me like I'm some kind of fucking monster think about that.”

  


“Alright...” Claire said, sounding somewhat nervous but trying to ignore it.

  


“Anyway...his hips broke, went back together, and everything that was suddenly outside went back inside, way inside...and there you go; impromptu pussy.” Roman stalled and then reconsidered his phrasing, “Birth canal...it's not really anything like a pussy except for on the inside. It's made of the same skin.”

  


“Jesus Christ...” came a voice from the back; a voice Roman had to admit he had never heard before. It was Dustin, the kid he'd never once witnessed speaking. He almost forgot he was there. “Don't ever let that happen to me.”

  


“Well don't go out trying to get humped by boys and we won't have that problem,” Claire said.

  


“You've got more problems with all the girls in the house.” Roman said, looking back down at the phone again.

  


“Poor thing...” Claire said, in reference to Peter he was assuming. “He's really got it rough.”

  


“He does...okay, we should be here...where the fuck is the car?” Roman asked, and they pulled forward a bit more to try to find the vehicle. What they found, instead, was what was supposed to be a vehicle covered by four pairs of massive black wings.

  


“What the _fuck!_ ” Claire shouted, and Roman shushed her as he watched one of them turn its head towards them. It very quickly lost interest and went back to looking around the car.

  


“Are they even still alive in there...?” Claire asked quietly.

  


“I don't know... I think if they were dead they'd be more in the car...I think they're looking for them.”

  


“Should we try to shoot them?” Max asked, peering from behind them and out the windshield.

  


“If we shoot them then they're going to be looking for us.” Roman replied, but Max was already looking through the gun bag and loading up a rifle.

  


“I didn't come out here for nothing. You brought us out here, we're going to do our job. Come on, Dustin.” Max said, to which Dustin nodded but he was clearly apprehensive about the whole thing. Max was already climbing out the back, quietly, along with Dustin.

  


“Max, what the fuck!” Claire hissed, but she'd already snuck out the back, took aim, and fired along with Dustin. The both of them let out a deafening screech, first at the shot, then a wail of pain at the impact of the bullets. Both of them were hit in the wing, effectively hindering their maneuverability but they abandoned the car for the thought of a better meal. Crawling down off the car, using their wings and legs to cling to the metal as they made their way for them.

  


They fired, hitting them in the shoulder, the leg, missing completely at some points. Dustin fired a few more times until the gun suddenly locked up; it wasn't working at all it seemed. At this point it was useless, he had nothing to fight them with. He attempted to retreat, but was suddenly rushed by one of the creatures. Max screamed in response, gaining both of their attention but not before an unintended tail swipe left Dustin wounded and bleeding from both the arm and the leg. He limped back to the van and Roman realized that wounded he was probably less useful than Roman was. He had no idea how Claire was with a gun but he'd taken down that ...thing that was Max's sister, so he had that much behind him. Alone, Max was going to die. With this thought, and the thought that this was _still_ technically his fault, he climbed in the back and grabbed one of the guns, loading it quickly and jumping out.

  


  


The both of them were closing in on Max, and she managed a well placed shot to the one on her left straight to the head. There was a sickening cracking squelch as its skull very nearly exploded, but the other was too close. It was nearly upon her before Roman decided to draw it's attention. It was like screaming and waving a flare at a T-Rex but it worked. It considered it's options, it looked at the two of them, while Max was very quickly trying to load her gun again and failing as the bullets clattered to the ground. She would have no chance, but Max was small. So much smaller than Roman, although most of him was limbs, he probably seemed like a bigger and better meal.

  


This prospect seemed to really spur the beast on. Roman fired, hit it above the hip, but the thing was faster than him. It pounced, though wounded, and landed on top of him. Luckily it still seemed somewhat slow. It took it's time, and Roman watched it's jaw extend so far that it was clearly gearing up to bite his head off in one movement. He struggled to get free but the beast had him by his ankle, tail wrapped around it and claws digging into one of his thighs. Max shouted something, and Roman could just barely see her shaking fingers trying to load the gun but the beast did not relent.

  


Moments before what was probably the final killing blow, as it lunged for his head, he heard a shot. Not just one, but several. The creature screamed, several times trying to ignore the bullets and bite him but it finally had to relent and crawl off. But that was _not_ a rifle. That was a pistol. He could barely see Lana coming towards it, guns blazing in determination even though it clearly wasn't doing much. Cassidy crawled out of the back and joined in, and though it did very little to harm it other than annoy it, it slowed it down. It attempted to make its way to whatever was hurting it, and seeing this Roman rolled over to grab the gun and fired on the first thing he could take aim on; which was its back, but it hit it more in the shoulder blade. Weighing it's options, it turned back to Roman and hissed, in time enough for him to fire a shot at it again. It hit the side of its face, tearing half of its jaw off and it screeched pathetically before Max gave the final blow, aiming for its head and sending it splattering bone and blood upon the pavement.

  


  


He pulled himself off the ground as Lana headed towards him and Cassidy made her way towards Max, who was visibly shaken. He could hear Cassidy talking to her, though he wasn't quite sure what she was saying, and Max was regarding her with a dose of suspicion.

  


“Jesus Christ, what happened to your neck?” Lana asked.

  


“It's a long story...” Roman replied, sounding exasperated. “How did you two get pinned down?”

  


“Our car broke down and those things heard us. I would've told you sooner but they knocked the phone underneath the seat.”

  


“Do you think you can get it started again?”

  


Lana turned to look back at the car, which Roman now noted was smoking slightly from the front and was covered in scratch marks. Something had probably gone wrong inside and no one here, at least him anyway, had any idea how to fix it. Lana turned back to him and shrugged, but Roman knew what was probably going to have to happen anyway.

  


“Fuck it. Get your shit and get in, we'll figure this out later.”

  


  


  


  


Roman had been gone way longer than he realized, or at least it seemed that way. Peter had tried to ignore the fact that he was worried, but the more he tried to ignore it, the more worried he got. He'd been gone close to two hours it seemed like. Peter had just tried to sleep through it, hoping he'd be back by the time he woke up, but he had only slept in brief lapses of time and woke up confused and finding it hadn't been very long at all. On the hour mark, he realized he was pretty worried and he felt stupid for thinking like that. He didn't remember ever really having been this scared for Roman, but he hadn't really been out of his sight that much since all of this had happened. Except for that one fight, but he hadn't even known he'd left.

  


  


But now the world had changed and so much shit wanted them dead. If it wasn't hellspawn, it was The Order. He _knew_ The Order wouldn't hesitate to kill Roman at this point. He was very well and truly afraid that Roman might not make it back. It was probably a slim chance, but every second that ticked by, that chance seemed to be more likely. He was left with the thought that he wasn't sure what he would do if Roman didn't come back. It was an incredibly pathetic thought. He could take care of himself, he'd been doing it for years. He wasn't a child...He could probably get Destiny's help if he really needed it ,after the world cleared up. He'd go back to her, alone, raise a child alone, remember what once was and never get over the sting. What fucking sting? Roman was a friend; Peter had friends before. He'd left them, too. He'd run like he always did. But no one had ever gotten as close as Roman did...Fuck him. Fuck him for making him worry like this. Fuck him for even giving him the reason to worry, for existing, for putting him in this stupid position. God, he hated him.

  


At the two hour mark he'd stolen Roman's cigarettes and made his way to the top of the stairs to use the nicotine to calm him the fuck down. He _needed_ this. He hadn't even realized he'd practically been sitting there chain smoking with the door cracked, probably alerting Lorelei somehow and she was probably disappointed in him. He wasn't so much sitting on the step as he was laying on it, with his back against the wall and one leg stretched out along it, with the other dangling on the step below it. It wasn't very comfortable because despite the fact that he apparently had narrow hips they were still too wide for this step. He was about half way done with his cigarette, when the door cracked open even further; of course, it was Roman, but he heard him before he saw him.

  


“Are you smoking all my fucking cigarettes?” he asked, clear as day, nonchalant as ever. Like he hadn't known Peter was sitting up all day worrying like a woman waiting on the news from the war. The first thing he could think to do was not answer him, because yes, he was sitting here smoking all his fucking cigarettes because the son of a bitch deserved it. Instead he stood, cigarette still dangling in his fingertips and backed Roman into the opposite wall, grabbing him by the face and kissing him hard. Because he could; he had that ability. He'd come back to him and he could do that now. Roman barely had time to kiss him back due to the surprise, but as soon as Peter backed away Roman grabbed the cigarette from him with one hand and wrapped his arm around Peter's waist with the other almost instinctively.

  


“You're a fucking idiot,” Peter said, sounding a little winded. Winded and almost angry. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  


“I told you I wasn't going to die...”

  


“Just because you say it doesn't mean it's automatically true.”

  


“Were you really sitting here that worried?”

  


“Yes, I was worried. I didn't know what I'd do if you got your stupid ass killed out there. Like a fucking idiot, God you're the worst.” Peter said that, but he still didn't move. He didn't move and he liked the way Roman held him close with his arm wrapped around him, and the way he smoked what was left of the cigarette, looking like the most cocky fucker in the universe.

  


“I promise you I'm fine. Covered in drool and blood but fine.”

  


Peter realized at this point how their roles had been reversed. Roman always asked him if he was okay, told him he didn't worry enough. Now here he was, acting like a bitch because he thought Roman was going to go off and die, and he didn't, and he needed to know how fucking stupid he was because of it. He wanted to punch him but he also kind of didn't want to move. He didn't want Roman to stop touching him. He thought briefly that this could have very well been a scene from their high school year. Smoking cigarettes in stairwells, like two stupid high school kids who thought they were in love, probably just fucking like idiots. Making out between classes or during, getting caught by teachers and told off. He wanted it to be that simple. He wanted to be told off. He wanted to tell him 'see you later', and meet him at the trailer that hadn't been destroyed. He wanted to be a stupid kid again who didn't have to deal with any of this.

  


  


He took the cigarette from his mouth where he had been smoking it just that second, took one deep drag from it and breathed out unintentionally against his face, breath still in his lungs as he kissed him again and threw out the remaining stub. He'd unintentionally shotgunned him but he didn't think Roman cared. It felt good, and he wanted to pretend for a minute shit was normal, and that they were both seventeen and infatuated. For a minute he almost forgot that none of this could have happened because of Letha. For a minute, he almost wish it hadn't gone down that road. He almost wished he hadn't loved her. He barely had a minute to consider this before Claire started towards them, yelling to break it up, but it broke the illusion quickly enough.

  


“We've got wounded, so stop sucking face and get out of the way.”

  


“I'm fine, Claire,” Dustin said, as she lead him down the steps moments later as Peter sidestepped out of the way. Max gave the both of them a quick and suspicious glance before she followed Claire and Dustin. When everyone was gone, Peter turned back to him Roman with a hint of cold fire in his gaze. A sudden plan; an undeniable need.

  


“Go take a shower,” he said, giving him a gentle shove along the arms. “And then meet me in the bedroom, and bring back a towel.”

“Are you giving me orders?” Roman teased.

  


“If that's what you want it to be. Go, you smell like something fucking bled out all over you.”

  


“It did,” Roman said, before leaving him at the top of the steps.

  


“Hey!” Peter called, causing him to turn back to him. “Bring back the red one.”

  


  


Roman was fairly clueless as to this whole ordeal, but Peter had a plan. To take Roman to bed and do right by him, half in repentance for ripping his throat out and half because kissing him just then made him want to do way more than kiss. He was going to fuck him, if all went according to plan, and then he was going to bleed for him. It seemed like he'd gone from zero to sixty in seconds. From being terrified, to happy, to angry again, and then longing. So extensively, to be touched, to be wrapped up in him. He _wanted_ him, so badly it almost hurt. Luckily Roman was not shy about giving himself up. It felt awkward waiting for him, the both of them knowing most of what he intended to do when Roman got back. He was not one for setting up romance. He certainly was _not_ trying to romance Roman. In hindsight he wasn't entirely sure _what_ he was trying to do other than get laid.

  


  


Roman returned with the foresight to bring not only a towel but steal a package of wet wipes from the bathroom. He didn't even speak to him before he set the loot down on the edge of the bed and joined him, turning to him to grip the side of his face so that he could turn him to kiss him. He knew what was happening; they both did. They didn't need to pretend like it wasn't.

  


“You must have been really worried...” Roman said finally, pulling away to take in a breath.

  


“Don't start with me, you'll ruin the mood,” Peter responded, the hand that had found its way to Roman's neck running along the column of bone to toy with the edges of his hair. Though he stared at his lips longingly, as Roman moved in to kiss him Peter pulled away only long enough to speak.

  


“Do you still trust me?”

“I never didn't.” As he spoke, Peter noted the nervous way Roman's hands roamed his lower back, itching to get his clothes off but stalling for the sake of being gentlemanly in some way. “Why do you ask?”

  


“Because I really want to fuck you...but the first time I did that, too close to the change, I bit you. I already tore out your throat, I don't want to do it again...”

  


“Do you think there's a chance of that actually happening?” Roman asked, but he didn't' sound scared about the idea.

  


“I don't think so...”

  


“Then I trust you. Did you have me bring a towel in here because you were afraid you'd hurt me again?”

  


“No...” Peter said, and he leaned forward to kiss him again, pushing forward slightly until he could urge Roman onto his back. He straddled his thighs, sitting up long enough to look down at him. “That's for me. I want you to bite me.”

  


“What?” Roman asked, sounding alarmed with a heavy dose of disbelief. “Peter...if this is your weird way of trying to make shit even, you don't have to do it.”

  


“It's not. Are you afraid to hurt me?”

  


“I...I don't know, maybe.”

  


“If you let me control it you won't hurt me. I'm not asking you to bite my neck.”

  


“Then where do you want me to do it?”

  


“Here,” Peter said, extending his forearm and pointing to a particularly non-lethal looking spot of skin.

“Are you sure about this?” Roman asked, and Peter could tell he was hopeful but scared at the same time.

  


“I'm sure...but not yet. I want to make sure I at least get my dick in you first.”

  


“If that's what you really want...” Roman said, gripping him by the hair lightly enough to pull him down to kiss him again. Peter practically laid on top of him for several minutes, and though the both of them were still fully clothed that did not stop Peter from rutting up against Roman's cock, as he did the same. He finally pulled away from him, gasping for breath and panting as he scooted off his hips and between his legs, going for his belt buckle and sliding down his jeans and boxers at the same time.

  


He noticed the healing wound on his lower thigh and frowned slightly; how had he not noticed it before, when he had to have clearly been bleeding? Compared to his other wounds it wasn't very bad but it was kind of in the way.

  


“Does this hurt?” Peter asked, running his hand along the skin next to where the wound was.

  


“Not really,” he responded. “It hurt more when it happened.”

  


“How did this happen?”

  


“Got pinned down,” Roman replied, pulling Peter forward by the shirt so that he could push it off of him. He pushed himself into a sitting position and forced Peter to do the same, yanking him closer by his belt unintentionally as he went to undo it. He raised himself up long enough for Roman to get him naked the rest of the way but immediately lowered and pushed his legs together once he had. He was suddenly feeling very self conscious with the way that Roman was staring at him and refused to meet his gaze. He vaguely registered as Roman stripped off his own shirt to match him, before wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer.

  


He kissed along Peter's neck with a kind of tenderness that most people would think was lost upon upirs. It wasn't unusual for them but it was for the species he was part of, it seemed like.

  


“Why do you always have to stare at me?” Peter asked, tilting his head slightly when Roman sucked welts into his skin. He pulled away to answer him but his hands never left him.

  


“It's hard not to,” he responded, using his one free hand to grip the back of his neck, kissing him lightly and pulling away just barely to speak. He rested his forehead against Peter's, and shared his air and his space. “You shouldn't feel shy around me...You showed me your dick after I knew you for like, a week.”

  


“That was different,” Peter said as he pulled away slightly. Turned on as he was still he was feeling a bit uncomfortable. “I showed you something that wasn't strange to me, but now I'm...changing in ways that are foreign to me. Shit I don't really have control over.”

  


“You didn't really have control over changing, either. It's not something you could stop.”

  


“But I _chose_ to have you there to see it. It was just second nature...this isn't.”

  


“Peter...” Roman said, settling his hand on the one that rested on Peter's thigh. He gripped it lightly and reassuringly. “I know this is weird, but it's temporary. Obviously you've still got balls, they're just higher up. That's probably why sex feels so different. They'll come back down, and this shit will just be a blip in time. If I'm being honest...I think it's kind of hot. Like having the best of both worlds.”

  


“If you try to stick your dick in there you won't have a dick,” Peter warned. “You really think that's hot...?”

  


“It's different, and different's cool. Not a lot of people can say they've seen this shit. I think that makes me lucky. Besides, I like the way it makes you react when we fuck.”

  


Peter scoffed at this, but it somehow did make him feel better in the long run. He rolled over to grab the lube he'd taken out and laid on the nightstand, resolving to get over his hangups and get to business. He pushed against Roman's chest to get him to lean back again and settled between his legs. He shifted his hips up as Peter poured a bit of it onto his fingers and slipped them downwards. He knew the game by now, knew what to do, but still he often laid there sort of awkwardly waiting for Peter to actually get into him. Looking any place but at him. He would ask Roman if he was okay if he didn't know this was just the way he dealt with things. He would kiss him if it didn't mean leaning over him in a very uncomfortable manner. Instead he reached up with his other hand to grip his cock, to at least get Roman to stop laying there like a dead fish.

  


He pushed his thumb up beneath the glans and watched as Roman's chest stilled for a moment as his breath got caught in his throat, and he watched it deflate when he breathed out a quiet sigh, shifting his hips again towards Peter and looking down at him, with brows knitted in concentration and need. Touching him made things easier as it usually did, and getting his fingers in him got easier every time now that he was used to it. It didn't change that Roman was no more sensitive than he had been the first time. Peter had to work _so_ hard for him to feel it. Roman had told him many times he didn't need to do that but the more he was into it the easier it was for Peter to move.

  


But when he did, _oh_ how he loved watching him. The cramping in his wrist as he finger fucked him like a jackhammer was lessened by the fact that Roman was honestly gorgeous like this. Every time he hit him right his back arched further, and he took in low panting gasps that shuddered as they left him. It exposed the deep and jutting arch of the costal angle of his ribs that Peter had to admit was particularly attractive to him. One of his arms eventually migrated behind him to grip at the edge of the pillow, and Peter watched as the muscles in his arm flexed each time he did something right, as he grabbed the edge harder.

  


He wanted so badly to get his hands on him, or rather his mouth. To turn the paleness of his skin maroon as he left love bites on every inch of his neck, or his thighs. He honestly wouldn't mind getting his mouth on his dick if the position would work, but at this point in time it wouldn't. Maybe he'd make it a point later on to blow him. Right now, though, he really wanted to fuck him. The damp streaks of precum he was leaving on the sheets as he rutted against them in desperation was proof of that.

  


“Jesus Christ...” Peter mumbled, the phrase leaving his mouth before he could even think to stop it.

  


“What?” Roman asked, when he could speak, when Peter wasn't moving as much because he thought his wrist might fall off if he did.

  


“You're like a porn star...” Peter responded, suddenly pulling his fingers from him and reaching to grab the towel nearby to lay next to him. Roman let out a breath of both relief and annoyance. He could breathe properly now but he wasn't getting what he wanted.

  


“A porn star?” he asked, leaning up a little as Peter slicked himself up in preparation. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

  


“It's a compliment, idiot.”

  


He lined himself up and leaned forward, holding his cock steady to attempt to feed it in. Roman took in a breath like he'd just been exposed to freezing water, like the sensation fucked up his diaphragm and he was struggling to right his breathing. Roman worked his legs around Peter's hips to help drag him forward, not caring much about the pain that roughly shoving his dick into him would create. He just wanted it over with, clearly. Peter found his breath catch as Roman did this, finding it only easier to respirate once he was at least fully inside of him. His breathing was still slightly labored as he spoke though.

  


“In what world is 'You're like pornstar' an insult?”

  


“It was a weird statement,” Roman said, breathing out laugh and slipping his hand beneath Peter's bicep to rest it on his upper shoulder blade.

  


“It means I think you're pretty. Do you have to make me say it? Come on, you know what I'm talking about.”

  


“That's even weirder...” Roman said, though he almost sounded a little shy.

  


“Oh, you can call me pretty but I can't call you pretty? What's with this double standard?”

  


“I've just...never really thought I was that attractive,” Roman said, and it was incredibly bizarre to him that Roman thought that way. He didn't have all that much room to judge because he sort of thought the same thing about himself.

  


“Roman...you've said a lot of stupid shit before, but I think that's some of the dumbest.”

  


“Fuck off,” he replied, averting his gaze but letting out a sort of breathless laugh along with it to let Peter know he wasn't truly angry.

  


“You fucked half the high-school and you think it's weird for someone to find you attractive?”

  


“I'm pretty sure it was more about social status. My family owned half the town...There's nothing special about me otherwise. Just some skinny white kid with a blood fetish.”

  


“Then what's so special about me?” Peter asked, and he was realizing now he didn't intend to get in this conversation when he was ...well, lack of balls deep in the guy who was suddenly confessing he didn't like himself.

  


“I already told you why you're special,” Roman said with a huff.

  


“Tell me more, then.”

  


“You think there's more? Maybe there's nothing else.” Roman stalled for a moment, trying to think of what to say but ended up settling on, “I don't know...you're just special. You're not like other people. You're more like a dog,” Roman ended this with a pointed laugh and Peter was five seconds from smacking the shit out of him. But he turned his insult against him instead.

  


“You saying you want to fuck dogs? That's weird.”

  


“No, asshole. I mean you're...different. Aside from the whole wolf thing you come from a whole different world and I dig that. It's also kind of hot that you're bilingual.”

  


“Really?” Peter asked, shifting slightly so that his hips didn't protest so much. Roman helped to accommodate this by moving slightly as well, and it felt nice and reminded him why he was there but he kept this to himself. “You like it when I say shit you can't understand? That's your kink?”

  


“If you want to simplify it...”

  


Peter leaned down to bury his face in Roman's neck, less so kissing him for a moment than just nuzzling him until he sucked hard on the skin of his neck for a moment. The hand had been resting on his shoulder had migrated to his hair at this point, and Roman buried his fingers in it and scraped his nails lightly against his scalp. It felt nice, it made him arch his back slightly and give a very light love bite to the place where Roman's shoulder and neck met. He raised his arm to grip the side of Roman's face, kissing him near his lower jaw before speaking in his other tongue, a phrase roughly translating to 'Stupid, pretty idiot' but it's not like Roman would know.

  


“Oh yeah, that totally gets me going,” Roman said sarcastically.

  


Peter laughed lightly and shifted his hips again so that he could settle his thighs in more of a kneeling position.

  


“Just wait, then. I've got something else for you.” Trying to balance himself while he was trying to use both arms to do something else was a feat, but he managed to dig his nails into his forearm far enough to get blood to start bubbling up at the surface. “Is this what 'skinny white kids with a blood fetish' like?” he asked, letting himself balance on his other arm now while he held the bleeding one out for him.

  


“Something like that,” Roman responded, grabbing his arm and pulling it towards him. He ran his tongue along the wound to gather what had already spilled, sucking marks into it seconds later but it wasn't what Peter wanted. Not that he particularly wanted to be bitten on a normal day but he wanted it now.

  


“I told you to bite me, not suck on me. I'm not a tit. I only did that to get you interested.”

  


Roman took the bait without complaint once Peter gave him the go ahead. He hadn't taken notice just _how_ Roman actually bit people before, now that he had been anticipating it he had. It was so hard, and so fast that it seemed entirely unnatural. Almost like a snake. He could actually hear the sound of his skin splitting and bleeding like he was some kind of ripe fruit. For the moment, Roman left his teeth in. They were deep and the pressure was immense and for a minute, it hurt like a son of a bitch. But he'd forgotten what happened the first time Roman bit him this deeply. It started off as a warm rush of heat that spread up his veins and set him aflame inside, and left him feeling dizzy and drunk, maybe a little high even. He leaned forward to rest his head on Roman's shoulder and let out an audible breath. He used the arm that Roman was sucking on to grab his hair, to pull his head aside so he could give him enough hickeys to let everyone in the damn world know what they were doing. It wasn't apparent to him at the time _why_ he wanted people to know. It probably never would be.

  


He probably should have warned Roman, but with this strange drug of venom in his veins he realized just how badly he wanted to move. He'd been sitting there, un-moving, having a pleasant Sunday conversation with him for what seemed like forever. Roman was most definitely used to the intrusion at this point, with how long he'd been waiting. He moved his hips back and thrust in hard and deep, and Roman had been so lost with sucking on his arm he took in a deep gasp that sent blood into his lungs. He pulled away, choking briefly accompanied by an unpleasant sounding ripping pop that came with his teeth pulling out. Peter winced but couldn't help but be kind of amused at his reaction.

  


“Asshole,” Roman said, finishing up the last of his coughing fit before Peter grabbed the side of his face. His thumb grazed his lip, and the rest of his hand slipped on the blood that he'd managed to get all over his face somehow.

  


“Sorry, I thought we were fucking, not eating.” Peter said, lowering himself to kiss him. It was incredibly messy. The coppery tang of blood was heavy in his mouth but he'd tasted his own blood more times than he could count. It wasn't unusual for him to get it in his mouth. He moved again as he kept his lips on him, and he worked himself into a rhythm that both of them soon got used to.

  


Despite the fact that it was wet and sticky, and tasted like iron, he soon grew used to the sensation and the smell and kept kissing him though it was a little hard on his lungs. Roman seemed to have a similar sentiment. Neither of them truly wanted to stop kissing although it was getting hard to breathe. He took in each pleasured exhale, and when Roman eventually arched off the bed slightly he went for his jaw. Kissing him hard and smearing the blood along both of their faces, leaving pink tinged trails of saliva along his skin. He had to pull away to get enough leverage and ended up hovering above him for a moment. He thought seeing him covered in blood would lessen his attraction, but it honestly only made it worse.

  


Fucking hell, he looked so good. Not just looked, he sounded, he felt. Everything was just swirling in a torrent of arousal and need for him and even though he was there, he craved him so much. It almost wasn't _enough_ and Peter felt like maybe it never would be. It spurred him on further and he propped himself up further, straightening his arms and using them as leverage to sit up further and get a better angle. He could feel every time he got a good shot at his prostate, with the way his body tensed around him. He was desperate and craving it as well, wrapping his thighs around his hips and using it to push him along. Not that he needed to. It was getting apparent that he was fairly close and trying to push him along in anyway, rolling his hips towards him and using his abdomen as friction against his cock.

  


With this in mind, Peter stopped momentarily to pull himself into a kneeling position, and although it was kind of awkward, having half of Roman in his lap, it got his hands free and he used one to grab his hip and the other to grab his cock. Roman let out some wounded, broken sounding moan as he jerked his hips up into his hand. Peter was so taken by watching Roman so on the edge he hadn't even realized just how close he was as well, aside from the pounding of his heart and his ears and the way his breath came out hitched and deep. He tried to ignore it, because truly he just wanted to watch him. He was so fucking debauched, shaking and looking so desperate to cross that line. But he almost seemed stuck. Like he was right there, but he couldn't quite push himself over the edge.

  


  


In one final attempt to do so, Roman raised himself up with his arms, swinging himself forward and managing to awkwardly find himself in Peter's lap before he realized what he was doing. He spread his legs further to accommodate the position and thrust up, using the hand that had been on his hip to support him by holding onto his back. His own rhythm stuttered, and he fucked him somewhat erratically and couldn't quite get the same pace on his cock because he was desperately trying to hold back at this point, to ignore his own need. He had to stop for a moment while Roman re-positioned himself again, so that he wasn't' quite on his lap as he was kneeling on him with his legs positioned on either side of him. Peter had to pull his legs together slightly last minute but Roman's height made it work. Roman grabbed hold of his shoulders to brace himself and roughly fucked back against him. It seemed to be the change he needed, because Peter barely touched him after that and it had him coming against his stomach.

  


  


His body tensed hard and his muscles contracted around him, letting out a breathless sounding moan that sounded both relieved but also incredibly desperate. Peter was not close behind, and as Roman slumped against him and trembled slightly, still working through his own orgasm, Peter grabbed hold on him tightly, both arms wrapping around his back as he buried his face in his shoulder. Ignoring his own orgasm this whole time in favor of waiting and watching really hit him hard as he was forced to realize what was happening. He felt like he was about to snap in half and he could feel pleasure deep in his stomach, and along where he had to assume his prostate probably was at this moment. It ran from there and down his legs and nearly into his chest. He let out a deep and stuttered groan as he finally did come, continuing to thrust into him as he spilled every last drop into him that he could. He too, was shaking slightly and really fighting to keep both Roman and himself upright. He eventually lost his grip and ended up accidentally pushing him back down to the bed and falling on top of him.

  


Between panting breaths, Roman let out a slightly pained grunt as he forced all the air out of him. He managed to sit up but not quite enough to pull away from him yet as he was still trying to catch his breath.

  


“Shit,” Peter said, still breathless. “I've never done that before.”

  


“Done what?” Roman asked, sounding both winded and tired.

  


“Whatever the fuck that position was supposed to be.” he responded, pulling out finally and crawling over to the towel that had luckily already caught the blood that had been spilled earlier. He felt like a baby deer or something with how much his legs were shaking. He was exhausted. He cleaned the blood off of him and then passed it to Roman, who needed it far more than he did.

  


“I got stuck...you weren't really in the right position.”

  


“You could have said something.”

  


“I wasn't thinking of that,” with this, Roman threw the towel off to the side in favor of the wet wipes.

  


“It worked,” Peter said, laying next to him after he'd cleaned the rest of him up as much as he was going to. “It was nice, actually.”

  


“Really?”

  


“Yeah...I think I might like having you in my lap...or whatever it was you did.”

  


Roman turned to face him, reaching over to the side of Peter's chest and pulling him onto his side as well. He kicked the blanket that had been pushed to the end of the bed towards him to give them both some semblance of privacy. Roman rested his hand on his hip after he'd covered them and pulled him closer, averting his gaze as he spoke.

  


“So you still think I'm pretty after that?” he asked, and it sounded like he was joking but also a little nervous.

  


“Yeah...I mean you looked kind of like a clown or something with that blood on your nose...but you're still pretty.” Peter said, leaning forward to kiss him even though Roman tried to keep him at arms reach. He laughed a bit when he pulled away, and Peter had to assume it was because of the comparison.

  


“I don't really like clowns,” Roman mumbled. “They kinda creep me out.”

  


“Really?”

  


“I mean...yeah, kinda. I'm not scared they're just...creepy.”

  


“Who would've thought...” Peter chuckled, the hand resting on Roman's neck absentmindedly playing with his hair. He noticed the slightly bruised mark on his neck and ran his thumb over it slightly, feeling a sort of pride in it. His eyes drifted from there to his lips, and he found himself desperately wanting to kiss him again. Jesus Christ, he had nice lips. When he kissed him next, the hand resting on his hip migrated to his neck, and he could feel Roman's fingers carding through his hair, snagging on the knots that never seemed to be far from him at any given time. He felt that deep warmth again and it only grew as he realized just how much he liked kissing him.

  


With this realization, though he was sure he'd already realized it before, Peter began to think of other things. How much he enjoyed this in general. The way he liked laying with him, the admittance that he wanted to fuck him again. The fact that, even for a second though he tried to deny it, he had wished things had been different between him and Letha. That they'd have stayed friends. That was stupid, why would he have even thought that? He loved Letha...But then he remembered what Lorelei had said earlier in that day, that it would be easier for everyone if he'd realize his feelings. He realized that this wasn't going to stop. Even with his mind riddled with hormones he was almost feeling a sense of clarity; of realization. He didn't _want_ this to stop, and he had to stop denying that when he kissed Roman it felt the same as when he kissed Letha. He felt the same... Shit, _shit!_ He had long since stopped kissing him at this point and Roman seemed to notice him having some kind of internal war with himself.

  


“You alright?” he asked, concern written on his face.

  


“Y-yeah,” Peter stammered out. “I'm fine...” He didn't look at him much but when he did his heart clenched, threatened to stop beating or to beat out of his chest. He didn't ever want to stop looking at him like this. He didn't want to pretend he wasn't fucking gorgeous and he didn't want to kiss him all the time. Or maybe he did; he wanted to pretend that he didn't feel that way but his brain kept telling him to shut up. He was having a war with himself on the inside, and to try to sate it he buried his face against Roman's neck. He felt the stitches stick to his hair so he tried to be gentle, but Roman didn't seem to mind.

  


  


God damn it, he didn't want this. He didn't want this realization that he might actually love him. He didn't want to fall in love, it terrified him. He had been weak and fallen for Miranda in some way and it had ended poorly. But he realized now that he hadn't fallen quite as far for Miranda as he felt he'd fallen for Roman in this moment. He was falling, so hard, into a pit that burned him inside and made his chest stop breathing. A pit he didn't know if he could ever climb out of. The final nail in the coffin was that Peter felt he never wanted anyone to replace Letha, that no one _ever_ could, but Roman was close... He was close to giving him that same feeling. Maybe it was always supposed to be him.

  


  


But this was exhausting him. This internal war with himself, and he found himself falling asleep even though his mind was at war. He was tired, he'd worried for so long, loved so deeply, fucked so hard. He shifted to lean against Roman's other shoulder and wrapped his arms around him, to grip the skin of his back and feel it give way lightly to his nails. It hadn't been intentional, and when Roman shifted slightly to try to get away he loosened his grip. Peter was very near unconsciousness now, but he heard Roman speak to him. With his fingers buried in his hair again, on the back of the neck, he mumbled out a sincere and tired, “I love you.” Peter responded, but with what, he couldn't begin to repeat because he fell asleep as he said it.

  


But Roman....Roman had heard it. He'd heard it clear as day although Peter mumbled it half into his skin, but he had questioned several times what he'd said at first, if he'd heard it right. But in the end the message was clear; a message Roman would keep to himself, to not speak to him about at a later date because he knew it would just scare him away. He would keep it locked close to his once dead heart and remember it for himself. For he had heard Peter clearly, and he knew that what he responded with was a tired and half conscious, “I love you too.”

  


  
ART::

 

since y'all love Peter in Roman's shirts, here is one:

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, the pic at the bottom, for some reason I was half asleep when I did it so I forgot to give him an expression. When I went back to the original file to fix it, all of the textures were missing and I couldn't get it back in the right angle so he kind of just had to remain expressionless but his general state of being was tired and annoyed and like what you do when you wake up and kind of just rub one side of your face and get your hair outta there that's the intention but my art program decided it was going to be a piece of shit 
> 
> also that shirt is just a pinstripe shirt that's kind of ugly tbh and it's kind of too big on Roman in places but the lighting gave it more shine than I wanted 
> 
> also, there's pinups of every one of the OC girls in this story on the internet. Do with that info what you will.


	17. Cradle of the Forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is like, 90% gore, 5% sad feels, 2% plot development and 1% french sass
> 
> oh and one really shitty pic at the bottom for all that gore you had to go through

Roman's home had always been one of muted colors. Even filled with sunlight it always felt inexplicably cold. So disarmingly modern that something wasn't right about it. This is how Peter felt about it, anyway. Never used to living such a strange life, in such a strange place. To walk into a place and not find the walls stained with nicotine and old couches barely held together by aged thread and separating cushioning material. Such was the shit Peter was used to. He was sitting on the couch watching Nadia who looked up at him every so often before going back to stacking blocks and then knocking them over. Whatever floated her boat...

  
  


He looked down to find a tightly wrapped bundle in his arms that he, for some reason, was having trouble looking at. Something just seemed off about it. He knew it was a baby; his, he assumed, but it's like he couldn't get a clear look at its features. It was incredibly quiet. It didn't cry, or fuss, it just looked up at him. Its eyes glowed a brilliant green, like Nadia's had at one point, but it was somehow different. Something very off about it... They almost shimmered like a mirror as it looked up at him. The entire eye becoming reflective and silver, passing along it like it belonged there. He spoke to it like it all made since.

  
  


“Do you know how weird it is when you do that?” he asked, like it knew what he was saying. “People are going to start asking questions.” The thing gurgled in response, reaching its tiny hand from the wrap and grabbing his finger.

  
  


“She has my eyes,” came a voice from behind him, as Roman came to wrap his arms around him from the back of the couch.

  
  


“No she doesn't...” Peter said, earning a scoff from him.

“Are your eyes green?” Roman asked, rounding the couch to sit next to him.

  
  


“No...but your eyes don't ...do that,” he said, leaning over as Roman wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close.

  
  


“Your mom's a liar,” Roman said to the bundle in his arms.

  
  


“Don't call me a liar,” Peter said in annoyance. “Or a mom.”

  
  


“Well it wasn't _me_ who spat her out,” Roman responded, laughter carrying on his voice as he leaned in to kiss him on the first place he could reach, which was on his upper cheek. 

  
  


“Dad sounds better...” Peter said, letting out a content sigh as he leaned his head against Roman's shoulder.

  
  


“What does that make me?”

  
  


“Dad Two...Don't you have work?”

  
  


“Yeah...but I'm the boss. I think they'll understand.”

  
  


“What, that you're skipping work?”

  
  


“That I have a new kid at home.”

  
  


“I have to miss you to love you, Roman,” Peter said jokingly. “If you're up my ass all the time how can I miss you?”

  
  


“Are you sure you don't want me to be up your ass?”

  
  


“My entire pelvis is sore, I don't want you anywhere _near_ my ass. As a matter of fact I'm not sure I want you near my ass for another year.” 

  
  


“Alright...” Roman said, defeated. “I'll leave your ass alone.”

  
  


Peter realized suddenly that he needed to use the bathroom, and it felt like he'd been sitting there ignoring it for hours. Had he even realized it before this? How had he missed it? He shifted in his seat and motioned for Roman to take the infant in his arms as he spoke.

  
  


“Can you hold her for a minute?”

  
  


“Sure.”

  
  


He passed the bundle off to him like a very tiny and delicate football and stood from the couch to head off. He found that the bathroom was not where he thought it had been. It was apparently far further into the house, down a hallway he didn't remember being there. He thought he should find this strange but somehow it was normal. He made his way down the hallway, which seemed to go on forever. An endless walk of hundreds of doors that Peter knew wasn't the right one. He was looking for one door in particular. Upon walking on what seemed like forever, he was stopped at the presence of something cold and wet on the bottom of his sock. He looked down to survey the damage and to see what he had stepped in, finding himself standing on small droplets of blood.

  
  


  
  


Only then did things seem strange to him, the presence of blood usually was. He looked up from his position to find the hallway now much shorter, and from where he stood were long and slick trails of blood and gore. Like any idiot in a horror scenario he followed them with some trepidation. They led to a door from which a bright light shined through. He felt like he needed to know what was behind this door, and he stepped forward to pry it open. The light that shined through blinded him for the moment and he squinted against it, seeing only white and feeling an ache in his eyes. But when his sight regained him he felt his stomach drop, to find the scene he was looking at was quite impossible.

  
  


It was a high-tech looking hospital room, with what looked like a gynecological chair in the center. Stirrups streaked with blood and tissue all over it. He almost didn't notice the figure standing next to it, like the room had been empty until just now. But there, wearing a gown with blood streaming in waves from between her legs, was Letha. Her face was not what he remembered it being. It was pale, her eyes glazed over and white, black circles lining the hollow beneath them. Her entire body seemed to be held up by strings, and she stepped forward, unnaturally so. She trailed so much gore behind her that it looked to have come from several people. She was leaned towards one side, dragging herself in jerking movements. She couldn't keep her head up so it mostly lulled against her shoulder. Once blonde hair now stringy and covered in dirt, like a curtain over part of her face. 

  
  


“Peter...” she rasped.

  
  


This was not the woman he once loved. This was some...figment. Some horrifying figment, and he backed his way down the hall. But he found himself colliding with something living; something large and tall. Roman was behind him, wrapping his arms around him tightly. It stopped him from moving all together and this zombified figment continued for him. She was slow, taking forever to get to him but he only wanted to get away like she was moving at light speed.

  
  


“Where is she?” she said, her voice now sounding slightly clearer. It was sad, clear, echoed over a rasping death rattle. “Where is my daughter?” He wanted to get away from her, but he was held so tight he almost couldn't breath. She continued to speak, but her tone turned less sad and more angry. “Did you give her to him?” Her head straightened and she took in a deep rattling gasp before it lulled to the other side. She reached her hand out towards him, shaking, clawed and caked with dirt and blood. Cracked and missing nails on each finger. He could smell the scent of blood and death, acrid in his nostrils that made him want to vomit but he didn't. He was too afraid.

  
  


He felt his lungs constricting, his heart hammering in his chest from fear and the pressure so great on his body that he was suffocating.

  
  


“Why did you choose him?” another rasping breath, another shuffling step closer. “Why did you leave me?” She was nearly upon him now. “Wasn't I enough?” Her fingers now grasped his shoulder and they felt bony and rough on his skin. He could hear his name in his ear but it wasn't Letha's voice; it sounded distant and calm but it did little to help him. She raised her second hand, and her head now lulled down to her chest when it grabbed him. She raised her head, and he heard the bones protest and crack as she did. She screamed at him, and as she did her jaw loosened, so that it clattered the floor, rotted and exposing the inside of her neck and the lull of her tongue hanging from it. But still she screamed and though she had no jaw with which to form the words, as she stared at him with those white and clouded over eyes, she screamed. “Wasn't I enough?!” 

 

With a sudden rush of dizziness he found himself sitting half up, naked and covered in sweat in someone's arms. Roman was holding him somewhat awkwardly and he realized he was half on his lap with his arms wrapped around him. The first instinct was to shove him away for holding him there to be present for the horrors he had to experience. He realized now it had been a nightmare, and that he'd actually been crying the whole time. It all came at him at once; hard and brutal. The guilt...the shit he'd seen. It was a nightmare, sure, but a very upsetting one. He found himself wrapping his arms tightly around the back of Roman's ribs and burying his face in his shirt so that he could be his shoulder to cry on.

  
  


  
  


He was having a lot of second thoughts about the things he'd thought earlier. If Letha was still alive she'd be pissed and he felt like he was quite frankly tarnishing his memory. Maybe he shouldn't try to move on. He shouldn't have tried to with Miranda. It didn't stop the way he felt, though. He still felt the shit he'd come to realize earlier; that maybe he loved him. The dream shoving his memories of her straight into the forefront of his mind didn't help though. Roman was silent through the whole thing, he just continued to hold him until Peter found the need to pull away.

  
  


“Sorry...” Peter said finally, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

  
  


“It's fine,” Roman said, looking at him with a bit of worry. “You kinda freaked me out. I couldn't get you to wake up.”

  
  


“Aren't you not supposed to wake someone up who's having a nightmare?” Peter asked. His voice sounded a bit hoarse and like his nose was stuffed up, which it probably was in some way.

  
  


“I think that's sleepwalking... Did you _want_ me to let you sleep? Because you looked miserable.”

  
  


“No...I wish you'd managed to wake me up sooner.”

  
  


“What the hell did you see?”

  
  


“It's not important...” Peter said, climbing out of bed long enough to pull on the loosest pair of boxers he owned, and a t-shirt for the time being.

  
  


“You sure? Because you and I predicted those winged fuckers out there so if it's something like that-”

  
  


“It was about Letha.” Peter said, stopping him from asking anymore questions. “That's...that's it. I can't imagine that has anything to do with the future.”

  
  


Roman fell silent after this, and it seemed as though he wanted to say something but nothing came to him. After some deliberation he settled upon a simple “I'm sorry.” Peter was almost tempted to try to speak to him about it but he felt like these were things he should keep to himself. He didn't need Roman knowing the reason he likely had this dream was his underlying guilt he felt about his feelings for him. Feelings he truly wanted to keep pretending were bullshit in the first place. He swiped a hand along his face again to catch a few stray tears that seemed to have appeared, and his face still felt wet and swollen inside but he had to stop this. Letha would never see him cry for her and so it was useless.

  
  


“What time is it...?” he asked, remembering now the actual reason this whole thing seemed to have started was because he had an intense nagging burn in his bladder but the bed felt warm and he knew the floor was cold.

  
  


“Ten, I think.”

  
  


“So I've only been asleep for a few hours...”

  
  


“No. Ten A.M.”

  
  


“What?” Peter was taken aback by this. It had been late afternoon when he'd fallen asleep. He did not feel like he'd been sleeping that long but it would explain how groggy he felt and the state of his needs. “How the fuck did I sleep that long?”

“I don't know...I was worried. But you should count yourself lucky because those girls have not let me live what you did to my neck down.” Upon seeing Peter's confused expression, Roman pulled at the side of his shirt that covered most of his neck, the side that that hadn't been bitten to hell, to find a very intense bruise was very clearly not from violence. The flat look of disappointment he wore with the reveal did a bit to clear the feeling of his own dismay, and he gave a short and sudden laugh before containing himself.

  
  


“I'm glad you think it's funny. So did they.”

  
  


Peter disregarded this statement and stood from the bed again, cringing slightly at the cold he knew was coming and inevitably did. He didn't say anything as he left, and Roman did well not to get into his business and ask him. The light seemed too bright in the bathroom that morning, everything else seeming dull. It was the only room that was different. He was too groggy for these kind of sudden changes. He eventually ended up in front of the sink, trying to use the water to wake himself up. Instead he only ended up standing in front of it and staring as it poured outwards. The sound was not soothing. The stream was slow and weak, a slow and steady splashing on the still slightly bloodstained porcelain. The memory of the sound of blood hitting the tile came back to him at that moment, and he felt his eyes burn in response to it.

  
  


He turned the water off, bowing his head against his chest and taking in a shaky breath. He hadn't thought of her like this, ever. He hadn't considered what it might seem like to her now to see him with Roman. The guilt was clawing at his heart and guts like some dark beast of grief. A grief he'd thought he'd long ago left behind and dealt with. He couldn't let it weigh him down, he had to stop. He needed to stop fucking feeling sorry for himself and fucking crying. But of course every time he thought that, it only made it worse. He felt like the rush of extra hormones wasn't helping things, on top of just being pregnant. As he leaned over the sink he could feel the traces of electricity coursing up his spine and spreading through his extremities. An unscratchable itch. For once, he felt no desire for Roman's so-called 'cure' to his moon lunacy. He just wanted to be alone, or maybe he didn't. Either way he didn't want sex.

  
  


 

But somehow this dream seemed to open past wounds, so far that they were raw and bleeding, and hurt like they'd just happened again.

  
  


' _Fucking stop it. Stop crying, you're not a child. There's nothing to cry about. It's done and over with. There's nothing you can do_ '.

A bit of an aggressive peptalk but he felt like he had to mentally beat himself to stop crying like a bitch. He splashed his face a few times with the water to try to shock himself out of it and headed back out. He was fucking starving and craving an entire butcher's shop of meat at the moment. He wasn't sure if it had to do with the fact that he wanted to turn or he was just hungry as shit. He felt like it had to do with both.

  
  


He wanted to go outside and find a rabbit to murder, to sink his human teeth into it and taste the fur in his mouth. It was disgusting, to think of, but the wolf in him was stirring and telling him to hunt no matter what. Clearly it was confused. It must be, it probably had no clue what the fuck was happening. He almost wondered if the first time he turned again, if the beast would be insane. But he didn't get very far, because Roman rounded the corner, presumably to come check on him, and gave him just one look that made him dissolve again into despair.

  
  


“Peter...” he said sympathetically, like he wasn't entirely sure what to say but he wished so much that he could make it better. Peter didn't really know how he could make it better, either, but somehow Roman found a way. That way was to sit on the floor with him outside the bathroom when he felt so distraught he didn't think he could stand any longer. This was getting incredibly out of hand. He had cried before over her, but not like this. His brain really was fucking him over today.

  
  


“I can't help you unless you talk to me.” Roman said softly. The look he gave him was worried but comforting.

  
  


“I don't think there's anything you can do to help...”Peter spoke in hoarse tones, wavering, clenched up in his lungs while his diaphragm tried to control the shaking in his chest. Roman let out an annoyed groan in response and grabbed him by the shoulder to face him. “Peter. Talk to me.”

  
  


“It's fucking stupid...” he sniffed, swiping a hand across his face and finding it did little to help. “I shouldn't be acting like this. I'm not a fucking kid.”

  
  


“You're not, but you've got one in you...” Roman said calmly. He gently ran his hand along Peter's shoulder, to his arm, to his back, and back again in what Peter had to assume was his attempt at soothing him. It was working but not very well. “It's doing shit to your head.”

  
  


“I know,” Peter mumbled in response, sniffling again. “It was just a stupid dream...It was fine, I was at your house with the kid and then...everything just got so fucked up. I ended up in this fucking hospital room and Letha was there. She was so hurt..so angry. And she was dead, and bleeding, and rotting...falling apart and screaming at me. And I _know_ what it is. It's...it's punishment. For doing what I'm doing now. None of this should've happened, Roman...I shouldn't be here. _We_ shouldn't be here. We should have never started this in the first place.”

  
  


“Do you really think she's punishing you?” Roman asked in disbelief. “Peter, she's not...”

  
  


“No, I'm punishing _myself_. I'm guilty, Roman. I'm so fucking guilty. Seeing her like that...it's just a dream, but I feel like that's what I did to her. What I did to her memory...I forgot her.”

  
  


“You didn't forget her, Peter.” Roman said, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer. “You moved on...We both did.”

  
  


“I moved on and started screwing her cousin...Brother. Whatever.”

  
  


“I don't think she'd be angry. She wasn't that kind of person.”

  
  


“She wasn't...” Peter said, leaning into him more as he brought his knees to his chest. “But it just made me remember. Remember shit I thought I was passed. Apparently I'm not.”

  
  


Roman was quiet for a few minutes and Peter did little to look at him, but when he did he noticed he seemed to be deep in thought. Struggling eternally with something as he always seemed to do. He opened his mouth, took in a breath as though he was about to speak, and then stopped. Peter was about to tell him to just get out with it when he finally did speak.

  
  


“Why are you guilty now?”

  
  


“Fuck if I know...” Peter responded. He did know but he was going to keep his revelations to himself for the time being. Roman didn't seem entirely satisfied with that answer. He stared pensively at the frigid concrete in front of him as though it held all the answers to all the questions he might have had. Hoping, praying, that it would reveal every one of Peter's secrets. He spoke again after another halted breath.

“Do you remember what you said last night?”

  
  


“When?”

  
  


“Before you went to sleep...”

  
  


“No...I didn't know I even said anything. What did I say?”

  
  


Roman stalled again but this time only minutely. He let out a nervous laugh, shifting uncomfortably next to him and letting one of his legs stretch out across the hallway. Nearly touched the other side of the wall, the long legged fuck.

  
  


“I don't know, that's why I'm asking you.”

  
  


“Really?” Peter asked, clearly holding disbelief in the question. “That's it?”

  
  


“Yeah...That's it.”

  
  


For once, Peter didn't want to press him. Not because he didn't care, but because he was afraid he might have said something really fucking stupid and Roman just wasn't telling him. Stupid, like the way he thought he might truly feel about him, with his sleep addled brain confessing secrets best left kept. He used what he knew was probably a horrible excuse; a very stupid lie, as comfort in the fact that maybe Roman hadn't heard whatever dumb thing he may have said. Either way he wasn't hungry anymore.

  
  


  
  


Roman gave Peter a wide berth for the rest of the day. He kept an eye on him but he tried not to bother him. It became increasingly harder the closer it got to nightfall, though. Peter was twitchy as hell to the point where it was beginning to worry everyone else. Kate tried to help by making him some sort of herbal tea bullshit but it didn't seem to help. It only succeeded in making him pee four times in a half hour. When night finally did fall, or rather when the sun was beginning to wane and paint hues of orange along the atmosphere, the pack left. Peter knew what they meant to do. He wanted so badly to join them and yet here he was, stuck in his own prison of flesh. He spent his energy by pacing the now mostly empty bunker until Roman stopped giving him space and spoke to him.

  
  


“Peter...Do you want me to -,” He wasn't able to finish his sentence before Peter gave him a very aggressive and emphatic, “No.”

  
  


“You're gonna wear ruts in the floor...” Roman replied. Peter knew he was worried, that he honestly wasn't just trying to get in his pants at this point, Roman probably really was trying to help. That's not what he wanted, though.

  
  


“I just...” Peter stalled, not sure what he wanted to say as he stood there, breathing deep. “I just ...I don't want to be here. I don't want to be in this fucking place.”

  
  


“What do you want?”

  
  


“I want to be outside.” Peter nearly whined, pathetically, he was so desperate to just get out of this place, out of his own body.

  
  


“It's bad enough for them to go outside, Peter, you could get hurt-,”

  
  


“I don't care...” he murmured. “Please...”

  
  


“Will you let me go with you, at least?”

  
  


“Fine...I don't care, just let me the fuck out of here.”

  
  


“Okay, fine. We'll go outside. We'll walk for a bit... But let me stop by the van first. There's flashlights in there, and a gun.”

  
  


“Whatever,” Peter snapped, even though he didn't mean to.

  
  


He knew that the night air would be cold and that he would need a jacket, so begrudgingly he pulled one on even though he didn't want anything on him at the moment period. He shed everything he could that wasn't clothes, setting the twin rings and the amulet he wore around his neck on the dresser. The less he could have on, the better. Once he'd prepared himself he followed Roman up the steps and to the van. He stood there, huddled and cold but mostly rubbing his arms to stop the twitching feeling he had in every single fiber of his being. The sight inside the van was not what he had expected, as both of them had truly forgotten Lana and Cassidy were currently living in there. The both of them were bundled up sharing a Cup Noodle, which seemed impossible given they'd not entered the house for some time but it appeared as though they'd fashioned a bizarre microwave of sorts out of a bunch of foil and a lighter.

  
  


“What the fuck, are you trying to burn down the van?” Roman asked.

  
  


“Sorry...” Cassidy said. She was the only one able to speak, as Lana had her mouth full. It was weird seeing two upirs actually eat, knowing that they didn't get much sustenance from it. He saw Roman do it but very, very rarely. Much less making Cup Noodles in the back of a van with foil and fire.

  
  


“Move,” Roman said as he climbed into the van and caused the two of them to move back against the far wall. He dug through one of the bags shoved into the corner with very little payoff at first. His continued presence in the van caught the attention and curiosity of the two current residents.

  
  


“You need help?” Lana asked, setting the now empty Cup Noodle aside.

  
  


“I'm looking for flashlights,” Roman said, still digging through the bag. He finally was able to find at least one.

  
  


“You're not planning on walking out there tonight, are you?” Cassidy asked with concern. “That's so dangerous...”

  
  


“Yes, that's what I'm planning so Peter will stop losing his shit,” Roman said with annoyance. He crawled into the front seat to get the gun from the glove box and then back of the van again.

  
  


“Fuck you,” Peter spat, though his insult lost a lot of effectiveness because he was shaking so badly it sounded like he'd been submerged in freezing water.

  
  


“I tried, you said no,” Roman retorted. Peter's response was to punch him in the shoulder.

  
  


“Let me come with you,” Lana said, sliding out of the van butt first until she reached the edge where she stood.

  
  


“Why?” Roman asked.

  
  


“Because I've already saved you twice. Dying would put all my hard work to waste,” she replied. Cassidy joined her moments later.

  
  


“I'm coming too.”

  
  


“Guess it's a great big fuckin' party, full of upirs...” Peter mumbled. He watched as Roman opened his mouth to give some kind of retort but he stopped last minute. Good, that was smart of him. It's not like he had a problem with Lana and Cassidy, he was just pissed off in general.

  
  


  
  


Peter found that maybe walking in the forest did not do much to help him. He was still twitchy as hell but he was getting kind of tired from the walking. He wanted it to keep being like that. At the moment he just wanted to walk until he passed out so he didn't have to deal with this shit anymore. Safety was not currently a concern of his, it was just curing the ache he had in him. They walked in relative silence until the sun set and until sometime after. Peter knew it had to be awkward for any other party involved but he was past caring at this point.

  
  


After some time he was vaguely aware that something wasn't entirely right. The air smelled different to him. The strong scent of Earth, or forest and animal. Something he longed to belong to so badly. The scent was _so_ strong, so suddenly, that he hadn't noticed it before. With this scent came a buzzing ring in his ears to the point where he heard nothing but the ring. Like a thousand insects, screaming in his head, weakening his body. His legs gave out beneath him and he found himself on the forest floor before his vision went red. Red and blurry, and for a moment he felt blind. Blind, with wetness on his face, his back, his _skin._ Everything was wet, and everything hurt. It was almost an after thought, the pain, because he noticed everything else first. But the pain...the pain was intense. The part of his brain that was still working seemed to alert him to the fact that this was very bad. He knew what this was; knew from the snapping of his bones and the tearing of his skin. For a few moments he felt undeniable terror before he was suddenly plunged into nothing. It was not quite like he had passed out, he just ceased to exist. His mind was _gone._ Whatever existed in his body from this point on was no longer him, it was an animal.

  
  


Of course it wasn't so easy for anyone watching. They did not have the luxury of leaving their body, to not know what was happening. Roman watched as Peter's steps faltered, to the point where he thought he was going to collapse, but even like this he seemed to have gotten ahead of Roman. He didn't get there in time before Peter fell to his knees, all the while shouting his name with no response. He didn't even take notice when Roman grabbed him, tried shaking him out of this stupor he seemed to be in. Peter did not respond in any way, only breathed. Labored and long breaths, exhales pushed out like his lungs refused any air be took in.

  
  


When he started screaming and gasping for breath in painful, wheezing inhales Roman was at a loss. At the point again where he wanted to shut down because what he was witnessing was so fucked up. Still, he held him, his grip tight on his shoulders, even when he lurched forward, even when the motion somehow managed to yank the jacket off in Roman's hands. Where he saw, from beneath his shirt, the blossoming of crimson that spread along his spine, and the place where his bones snapped beneath it. He was vaguely aware he'd let out some very terrified curses but his mind was once again short circuiting. How was it that he could find the strength to save people he didn't know that well, but he was useless when it came to helping Peter? Why was he so fucking scared?

  
  


“Roman!” Lana shouted, her voice finally reaching past the screaming in his head. “What can we do?!” It seemed that she had been yelling at him for quite some time and he just hadn't noticed.

  
  


“I don't know-this isn't supposed to be happening!” Roman shouted, a pathetic sounding helpless cry that only served to remind him he was fucking worthless in these situations. “Peter...please, come on, don't do this...” he begged, but he knew that there was no stopping this once it had started. Not like this. All he could do was hold onto him and hope this stopped. Hope he didn't immediately hemorrhage inside from his organs ripping apart. His own hands were quickly becoming soaked with blood as he held onto him, from where his skin split. It split his flesh and the clothes on him so that they became little more than shredded rags that gave way to fur and bone.

Faster than Roman could react he was being bitten, hard. Not by the teeth of a human but the teeth of a wolf. Beneath his gaze was a bedraggled looking thing that only looked partially like a canine. Wet, blood matted fur and angry yellow eyes. Something seemed so wrong with this picture though he had no idea where to start. In instinct he yanked his hand away and pulled back, and this gave Peter enough time to stand the best he could, still tangled in clothes and looking incredibly broken, and limp quickly off into the forest. He'd tried so hard to grab him but his fingers slipped on wet fur and cloth. He was gone into the bushes and onward before he could get a hold of him.

  
  


The closeness of almost being able to catch him spurred him into action. He rose from his knees ungracefully and stumbled somewhat as he prepared to go after him.

  
  


“We have to find him,” he stammered. “We can't let him go out there like that, he's going to get fucking eaten.” With shaking hands he bent down to grab the flashlight he'd dropped and headed off in the direction paying absolutely no attention to what he was stepping on. He stumbled over rocks and branches in his frantic search. He could hear noise behind him, which sent terror rocketing through his body, but he knew it was just Lana and Cassidy. Even still he had to think of what it _could_ be. One of those fucked up vargulfs? An actual wolf? Could it have been Paige and her crew? Would they still recognize them in this state?

  
  


It was ten minutes of hopeless searching as Roman barreled through bushes and through trees, hoping to find any trace of him but all he found was blood. Blood in all directions, splattered on wood and dirt. God, what if the reason he couldn't find him was that he had died in some bush somewhere? Some tiny hollow in a great towering tree? What if he didn't think to look there and he was hiding? He searched frantically around him, shining the flashlight on every tree he could find but there was nothing. But what if he'd already passed it?

  
  


“Roman, you've got to calm down,” Cassidy panted as she finally caught up to him. “You're not going to find him like this.”

  
  


“If I don't-,” the words died in his throat, giving way to an angered sigh. He didn't even know what it was he was trying to say. Everything was so mixed up and he was fucking terrified. He took in another breath, exhaled slowly in an attempt to calm down. Okay, maybe he did need to calm down. He needed to think. Could Peter really have gotten that far? He surveyed the ground, the trees; it didn't help. The blood was so random. It was like he'd rolled around all over the place, but maybe he had. What would an animal do to get out of a trap? He was trapped in fabric... But this didn't help him at all. This didn't tell him where Peter was. He was beginning to feel that terror starting to trickle back in and for a moment he had the thought that Peter had done this to him. He'd never felt such fear like this. He didn't shut down when Shelley was shot. What was Peter to him that made him so different?

  
  


  
  


A sudden howl brought Roman from his thoughts and he followed it without thinking. Lana and Cassidy were helpless to do anything but follow, despite the fact that they kept telling him this was a stupid idea and he might be walking into a trap. An entire pack of feral wolves ready to tear him apart just for being there. His determination to get to Peter was stronger than the fear of death or injury. His own death scared him less than Peter's. He was just so willing to charge headlong into getting massacred to save him. Would he have been so afraid if they weren't here in this unfamiliar place?

  
  


The sight before him as he reached the clearing was at first incredibly confusing. The first thing he did was reach for his gun as he saw a pack of wolves pinning Peter down. One of the wolves pinning him down looked up at him and let out a low growl. A grey and white thing that somehow, though it was just an animal, seemed to dominate him to the very core. Looking in those yellow eyes he came to the realization that it was probably Paige. They weren't hurting Peter, they were just holding him still. The howl that he'd heard had probably been to alert him to Peter's location. But despite the fact that they all knew these people, Peter was not relenting so easily. He growled and snapped at the pack who narrowly avoided him his jaws, with their fangs gripped into his fur to stop him from moving. Was what he was looking at now even Peter anymore? This thing was feral...but he had to try.

  
  


Roman threw his jacket off knelt down before him in one swift movement. If only he'd thought to grab Peter's before he'd left, this would be a lot easier. The chill that overtook him made his hands shake as he reached forward and grabbed Peter's jaws with little hesitation. He snapped at him hard, digging teeth into his fingers and drawing copious amounts of blood but Roman didn't care. He held them long enough to kick his jacket towards him and get it beneath one of his arms, then beneath his hands. He used the sleeves to tie his mouth shut and used the second sleeve to tie around his neck so that it didn't come loose. He slipped his hands beneath the still wet, cloth covered torso and hauled him up. The sound that came with it made his blood run cold and he found himself holding something he wasn't sure he should be.

  
  


  
  


There was the oh-so heart wrenching sound a dog makes when it's hurt. That high pitched scream of a whine, and the sound of something deep inside of him cracking. Like he'd broken something when he picked him up. He wasn't sure what to do. Should he try to set him back down? If he set him back down he was just going to end up having to pick him back up again one way or another. Another movement that would probably only serve to hurt him further. He resolved to fight through the pain he was causing Peter and swiftly head back towards the bunker. Though he was apparently hurt Peter did not want to go without a fight. He still managed to squirm in his arms and make things harder. He kicked him with one of his working legs; he found that not all of them seemed to work, and scrambled with the other to claw at his shirt.

  
  


“Can one of you grab him?” Roman asked to the two women that still seemed to be falling behind. Lana ran ahead to grip the back of his legs and hold them still. With half of him immobilized he found it much easier to wrap his arms higher on Peter's torso and stop him from moving so much.

  
  


  
  


Despite the fact that Lana and Cassidy were supposed to be barred from the house, Roman thought he'd break that rule given the circumstances. He shoved past the door with his shoulder and the three of them headed sideways down the steps. Peter never stopped whining and it broke his heart to hear it. He knew he had to be in some kind of awful pain. In the long run, this was his fault to begin with. He should've said no. Fuck, he should have seduced him or something, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Who knew that pressuring someone into sex could potentially save their life? This wasn't a rule to live by and he didn't recommend it to anyone else for every day life, but perhaps here.

  
  


The bathroom seemed like the best place to head at the moment. Less likely to get things messy. Peter might appreciate being put down somewhere soft but he knew that his claws would likely destroy any of the bedding. It was probably best to keep him on the floor anyway in case he decided he was going to take off; jumping from a bed would probably only hurt him more. When Roman set him down, though, it was like he'd lost all the will to fight. He hurt too much; he didn't want to run anymore. He hoped that's what was causing it. He hoped it wasn't because he was bleeding inside and slowly dying. Even with the thought that maybe this might be Peter's last hours, he had to fucking function. He pushed the thoughts that he might die from his head. He couldn't think like that, it wouldn't help anyone. Roman was never one to listen to his psyche so easily when it told him to stop freaking out. About a hundred 'what if's' flooded his mind and he dully remembered doing this a year or so back. Sitting in the car with Peter and freaking out, annoying him for several minutes with his paranoia. Peter was better about not thinking about the 'what if's', or he used to be anyway.

  
  


“Do any of you have a knife?” Roman asked suddenly, turning towards the two that were now seated somewhat behind him. Both Cassidy and Lana, without missing a beat, pulled two separate pocket knives from their pockets. Roman had to hide to fight the fact that he was kind of impressed by this. He took Lana's and flipped it open, noticing it was already stained red on the edges from what he had to assume was a lot of use. Sometimes he forgot that he was basically harboring two murderers...

  
  


  
  


This knife was not as good as getting through clothes as it was skin. The sound of fabric tearing and straining against the blade only made him more annoyed that he couldn't seem to cut it off. Peter was going to kick his ass, most likely, for ruining one of his only outfits but it wasn't like it hadn't already been destroyed anyway. After working for what seemed like forever, Roman was greeted with one of the most bizarre and unsettling sights he thought he'd seen yet. Even Lana, a literal murderer, let out an audible noise of horror followed by a 'What the fuck?!' Apparently, although Roman should have seen it much earlier, Peter did not turn right. Of course, that much he knew. He did not turn _fully_. It had left his middle intact, the part of him that would have undoubtedly killed him had it changed at all. It was more like the wolf had climbed out his front, bypassed anything else, then busted out the back.

  
  


  
  


Because his middle was still intact; still skin and human, his spine aligned very poorly. It was as though someone had broken his back with a hammer. Where his chest met, where the wolf and human intercepted, some of his ribs had snapped straight through the skin and were pushing outwards like jutting white daggers. Wet with blood, with strings of flesh and tissue wrapped around them not unlike the web of a spider. His transformation had at least left him with some modesty as he'd shed the skin from his lower half and replaced it with fur and canine appendage. But, of course, even the legs were wrong. One of them was twisted and bent, another at the front was incomplete. Skin twisting through fur and splintered bits of bone. Jesus Christ, he felt so bad for picking him up now. He just hoped he hadn't permanently broken his spine.

  
  


“This isn't normal, right?” Cassidy asked with a hint of disgust.

  
  


“No. He's not supposed to turn _at all._ ” Roman replied. He gently ran his hand along his fur in an attempt to comfort him. Peter only let out a growl that pushed his ribs further from the skin until he silenced himself. They were sliding around, slick and wet, through his flesh each time he moved it. He was being stabbed by his own bones. What could he do to fix this? He remembered ripping his jaws in half to reach down the beast's gullet, to pull him out and deliver him like an overly large infant from the womb of feral insanity. He could not do this, not this time. Peter would not be resting within its body as he once had because the two of them were now so intertwined. He would have to tear him apart, cut into flesh that shouldn't be cut into. Unearth his still beating heart from his chest and struggling lungs from his broken ribs. There was only one person he could call about this, and that was Destiny. The woman who he hadn't spoken to in months, and was about to tell her that her cousin was lying broken on the floor and he needed help on how to fix this. No doubt she'd tell him it was his fault. In some way Roman was sure it was.

  
  


  
  


He pulled the phone from his pocket and saw that the signal here was weak, but he didn't want to leave Peter to go outside to try to find one. He'd just have to pray it went through well enough. Several long rings later, Destiny answered with some sense of hesitation. Roman was glad to know she was alive at least. There was a chance she might have been dead. That Pryce hadn't listened, hadn't gotten her to the White Tower and she'd been eaten.

  
  


“Roman...?” she asked. Who else would it be?

  
  


“Yeah...” he responded, voice catching a little in his throat. “Look, I'm sorry, but I need your help. Or your advice, or something. You told Peter he can't turn, right? I mean that literally. Physically unable?”

  
  


“Yes...” Destiny said suspiciously. “Did he?”

  
  


“Yes,” Roman replied, and he found his voice shaking slightly. If he started crying on the phone with her he was going to have to punch a wall to get his masculinity back. It wasn't like Roman didn't cry all the time anyway but to Destiny...that was embarrassing. “What the fuck do I do? Why did this happen?”

  
  


There was a restrained sigh on the other end of the line and then silence. When she next spoke it was with fear. Roman could tell she was afraid. She must know the consequences of turning and what it could do to his insides. “Is he still alive?”

  
  


“Yes, but he's...he doesn't know me. He doesn't know anyone. He bit me earlier but now he's just laying here...crying. Nothing's right about this. Everything's broken and misaligned because he turned everywhere but his torso so I couldn't even get him out like last time if I tried. I'm so fucking scared he's going to die like this...”

  
  


“Okay,” Destiny said, clearly trying to work through what Roman said. “Okay, that won't kill him. His body has worked out how to turn without killing him...But don't ever let this happen again if you can help it. What were you doing when he turned?”

  
  


“He asked me to let him go outside. We're in the middle of the woods right now and-,”

  
  


“That's like waving a steak in front of a starving dog, Roman,” Destiny interrupted. Clearly chastising him for being a fucking idiot. “If he ever asks you to let him out again, I don't care what you have to do, do not let him go outside...Distract him.”

  
  


“I tried,” Roman said through gritted teeth.

  
  


“Tough love, Roman,” Annoyance, once again. Of course she was pissed at him.

  
  


“I didn't know he was going to just wolf out on me!” Roman retorted. “You told me he's not supposed to!”

  
  


“I didn't tell you, I told him. He should know this shit by now...” Destiny grumbled. “I know they told me all the other werewolves they've worked with never turned but not many of them broke the rule for turning against the moon. It's like taking the lock off the cage. Eventually, it's going to figure out how to get out. Whatever you're seeing now _isn't_ Peter. It's an animal that's been trapped for months and is going insane. I can only hope he comes back because he turned on the night he's _supposed_ to.”

  
  


“So you don't know if he'll come back...?”

  
  


“No, Roman, I don't. I don't have all the answers to the universe, I'm sorry.” Before Roman could respond, Destiny let out an irritated sigh and continued. “You did the right thing calling me. Sometimes I think you can be a fucking moron but I know it's not your fault. I shouldn't judge who my cousin decides to shack up with.”

“Thanks,” Roman said flatly, restraining the anger he felt. He knew how Destiny felt about him. He knew this was his fault in her eyes. She'd have to get over it, though.

  
  


“You're not a bad person...” she admitted. “You must care enough to have Pryce come get me.”

  
  


“Did you go with him?”

  
  


“Yeah, and this place is weird as hell. I don't know how you deal with it. Everything's so white.”

  
  


“It takes some getting used to...” He debated hanging up here, telling her goodbye and going back to Peter, but there was still more he needed to say. “Look...I shouldn't tell you this. It's probably something Peter wanted to ask you, but he wants you to play midwife.”

  
  


“What?” she asked, a little taken aback. “Does he know I really have no idea what I'm doing? I know how women work, not men. Wouldn't Pryce be better?”

  
  


“He doesn't want Pryce there because, well...look at him. Everything out of the norm he uses as jerk off fuel. Sorry, 'scientific research'. Pryce doesn't know what he's doing any more than you do. I'm pretty sure he's never even delivered a kid.”

  
  


“And he knows I'm going to have to stare at his crotch for hours on end? It's no big deal to me but I know he's weird about that shit sometimes.”

  
  


“He knows, but he'd rather it be family than some guy he barely knows who's just going to use the experience in his scientific repertoire.”

  
  


“I don't even know how to get it out...” Destiny mumbled, clearly a bit distraught with this prospect. Not of the thought of having to do it, he assumed, but the fact that she might be afraid of messing it up.

  
  


“It's really not that hard to figure out, trust me. I could do it myself but I don't want to and neither does Peter.”

  
  


“Fine,” she sighed. “I don't know how I'm going to find the two of you but if you can figure it out, I'll be there.”

  
  


  
  


Roman spoke to her for a few more moments, explaining his plan somewhat vaguely on the off chance that Lana and Cassidy's presence would somehow complicate things for him. Destiny didn't know they were there, and he didn't want her to, but he didn't want the two of them knowing all his plans either. After he'd hung up from her he focused his attention on Peter again. Somehow, though this must hurt terribly, he was asleep. His eyes closed, though his breathing was slightly uneven, most likely due to the fact that some of his ribs were on the outside of his body. That proved to be another problem. The meat clinging to the bones would dry with the blood. It was already beginning to. To dry and rot and then be pushed back into the body would most likely cause sepsis. The thought of what he was about to have to do filled him with dread but to stop him from getting incredibly ill he would have to.

  
  


“Can one get me the first aid kid in the closet?” he asked, pulling the knife towards him once again. Cassidy did the honors and pushed the box towards him. “Do you need any help?”

  
  


“No-wait, yes. Hold him down.”

  
  


Roman noticed as Peter woke when Lana and Cassidy settled on either side of his legs to hold them down. He let out a weak growl, lifting his head for a moment and then letting it settle back on the floor. He poured a bit of antiseptic on the blade and wiped it down with a gauze square as he readied himself to cut the skin away from bone. He let out a breath and lowered the blade, pushing it beneath one of the strings and pulling up to cut it. Luckily Peter didn't really seem to feel it at first. He did this with every string he could find until he realized that some had actually dried to the bone and couldn't be cut away quite as easily. He was forced to press the blade directly to it, to scrape it away in several pieces. This, Peter felt. He knew by the sudden yelping growl he let out as he threw his head back in an attempt to bite him. With his jaw muzzled there was no chance of that happening but it was a sad sight to see. He struggled beneath Lana and Cassidy's grip but got nowhere and for this Roman was glad.

  
  


  
  


When he'd scraped away enough of the tissue he poured the antiseptic on another gauze square and used it to clean along the blood away so that it didn't rot and attract bacteria. This was apparently somewhat painful as well but not nearly as much as the scraping. He did whine when he poured it directly on the area where the ribs seemed to be jutting out. Unfortunately there wasn't much else he could do with them. He couldn't cover them because if Peter turned back he might pull in whatever covering was on them into his body. That would serve a whole separate set of problems. But Peter's ribs were not the only exposed part. His front leg was another issue. It was very nearly pulverized so the only thing Roman could do, as he pushed aside Lana's hand to get at it, was wipe it down with antiseptic. The noise Peter made when he poured it onto the wound was worse than his ribs. He wasn't entirely sure why this place must have hurt so much worse. Perhaps it was because most of the bone here was broken.

  
  


It was amazing how quickly Peter fell back asleep after Roman was finished. Or maybe the truth was that he actually passed out but Roman could at least still see him breathing. He'd done all he could do at the moment, the only thing he could do now was wait.

  
  


“You might want to get out of here now before everyone gets back. Paige will have your ass, and mine.”

  
  


“Screw her,” Lana said. “I mean...what I'm saying is, I want to stay. I don't want to leave you two alone like this.”

  
  


“Me too,” Cassidy said.

  
  


“What do you think's going to happen?” Roman questioned.

  
  


“Who knows? About a million things could happen.” Lana replied. “You never know.”

  
  


“Look, if you want to get your ass kicked and get banned permanently from the house, that's fine, but don't say I didn't warn you.”

  
  


“I'm not gonna get banned,” Lana said dismissively.

  
  


It was going to be a long night... At around midnight Lana and Cassidy ended up in the bath tub to take a nap with about four towels, which was pretty bizarre but smart. Roman did nothing but stare at the half canine thing on the floor for that long, until he realized that he was actually incredibly tired. Like it or not, he had to sleep. He settled down next to him, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his nose in his fur. He smelled like dirt, blood, and dog but Roman would ignore it. Even in such a disgusting and unsettling state, Roman still wanted to be close to him. He was somehow able to fall asleep despite how uncomfortable he was and how dire the situation seemed.

  
  


  
  


The rest of the night seemed to pass by quickly, but for someone who experienced the whole thing in stasis, unaware of his own existence, things were far different. Peter only remembered going into the forest, and the next thing he knew he was lying on the bathroom floor, wet and gasping. Pain flooding his lungs and sides as he wheezed desperately to get in some air. But it hurt so badly... He pushed himself off the floor with one arm and tried to get a look at himself, but the first thing he noticed was white where it shouldn't be. Along with fur and blood his ribs stuck out further than they should. Further as in they were literally _outside_ his body. His first and only response was to reach up with his other arm and push them back in. His hands shook as he pushed against them, breath coming out in desperate wheezing inhales and exhales. He hadn't even realized with his mission to put his insides back inside that Roman had been laying next to him. He wouldn't have realized if he didn't speak.

  
  


“Jesus Christ!” he shouted.

  
  


Peter let out a low growling noise from his throat in irritation that Roman was interrupting what he was trying to do. He practically had to beat himself to get his body to cooperate but the bone finally righted itself and pushed back into his chest. The skin closed over it moments later and Peter finally took in a deep gasp of air when everything was back where it should be. How did one misalign their entire rib cage, constrict their own lungs with the thing that was supposed to protect them? He could feel fluid in each breath and with a pathetic retching cough, he turned over and hacked up the blood from his lungs. He still felt entirely too constricted though and realized there was a jacket tied loosely around his shoulders. He flung it off onto the floor in irritation once he figured out how to get it off.

  
  


  
  


He noticed Roman was staring at him dumbfounded, afraid to speak, afraid to touch him. Rightfully so, he was in no mood for any of it right now. He just knew Roman was begging to ask if he was alright in his own brain, but Peter would punch him if he did. Did he look alright? No, he wasn't alright. He had no idea how he got here, where the time went, why he was laying in fucking fur and blood, shaking like a newborn calf. He spit blood from his mouth again before taking in a still rattling breath, attempting to speak although it felt like every word hurt.

“What the _fuck_?!” He shouted, random syllables getting caught in his throat, sticking inside when his lungs clenched up in agony. He saw two people suddenly clambering out of the bathtub out of his peripheral vision, realizing for the first time how naked he was, but he didn't care. Maybe on another day he'd care about two people he barely knew seeing him in the buff but that was the least of his concerns. Roman was still trying to process being suddenly woke up like this and wasn't readily offering him answers. Luckily, Lana did. She started off what Roman couldn't.

  
  


“You turned last night,” she said, kneeling down to speak to him. It made him feel a little self conscious and awkward having her that close.

  
  


“What?” he asked, not like Lana had the answers but he had to ask for his own sake. “How...How am I still alive?”

  
  


“It spared your torso,” Roman finally said. “But it broke just about everything else.”

  
  


“Why don't I remember this?”

  
  


“You weren't you. Destiny said that the wolf found a way out basically. You were separated.”

  
  


“You talked to Destiny?”

  
  


“Yes, I talked to Destiny, I was freaking the fuck out.” Roman said defensively.

  
  


“Fuck...I don't really even remember turning. I just remember being in the woods.”

  
  


“Yeah, that was a stupid fucking idea. She said it was like...I don't remember, something about a steak and a dog. If you ever try to pull that shit again I'm tying you to the damn bed.”

  
  


“Fuck off,” Peter said, coughing once more and spitting out blood.

  
  


“You scared the shit out of me, Peter. You fucking ran off. I had to go find you and carry you back here. I'm not doing that again. I know you don't remember it but I don't think you want to do it again either. You were in a lot of pain.”

  
  


“Alright, fine...” Peter relented. Roman was right, he definitely didn't need to be turning. Especially if he didn't remember _any_ of it. The things he could get into, or the things he could do to hurt himself or the kid, were too great. For a second time it turned out that perhaps sex _was_ a necessity, or at least something that could knock him out or distract him.

  
  


Suddenly the door swung open and Peter looked up to find Paige standing there, with nothing but a torn up t-shirt and cloth panties. Her hair was frazzled and a mess, covered with sticks and leaves. She let out an annoyed groan and closed her eyes, running her hand over her face. Peter noticed that this was probably the first time he'd seen her without makeup. She looked incredibly tired without it.

  
  


“Get out,” she said. “All of you. Especially you two,” she pointed at Cassidy and Lana. She looked towards Peter and pointed at him with her clawed, unpainted fingernail. “And _you_. You were a _real_ pain in the ass last night. Had to chase your aggressive ass down with the rest of them. You better appreciate it.”

  
  


“Thanks,” Peter choked out. Roman grabbed him a towel to wrap around himself which he very much appreciated, and he was out the door as fast as he could muster. Lana and Cassidy were scattering like mice in the dark, up to the steps to get out of her way as fast as they could. It had been a long time it felt like since Peter felt this sore and like he'd been hit by sixteen buses. It had been never that he had to push his own bones back into his body. That was definitely different. He needed to shower but Paige seemed to have already taken possession of the bathroom. Was there another bathroom in this place? He'd never actually seen one. That was inconvenient with how many people were in the house... All he could do was lay in wait in bed, still feeling dirty and disgusting and probably ruining whatever he was laying on, but he'd take care of that later.

  
  


“Was she pissed?” Peter asked Roman, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed, several minutes after getting into the bedroom.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“Destiny.”

  
  


“I think you know the answer to that question already.”

  
  


Peter laughed at this, but the motion hurt his chest and he ended up coughing again with a grimace. He tasted blood on his tongue but given his current position he felt it best to swallow it. He took in another breath that still felt painful and rattling but it was remarkably clearer than the ones before it.

  
  


“She blamed it on you, didn't she?”

  
  


“Yep,” Roman responded, drawing out the word for longer than it needed to be.

  
  


“I'm not surprised.”

  
  


He attempted to roll over, and he did so successfully but his ribs were still incredibly tender. He grimaced once again, letting out a hiss and fully regretting his decision. Roman gave him a look of concern that he could see coming from a mile away.

  
  


“Do you want an ice pack?” he asked, and he knew that Roman knew by now just how Peter felt about asking if he was okay. His tone was uncertain as though Peter might snap at him for asking.

  
“No,” he responded calmly, and tiredly. “I just want to sleep.” He'd technically lost several hours, his brain itself sleeping, but his body was exhausted. It needed more sleep, even if he had already been sleeping as both beings. One thing keeping him awake was the uncertainty of his child. Was it okay after what he'd been through? As though on cue he was alerted by the sensation of something kicking the absolute shit out of his insides. He grimaced slightly and and pushed his hand against his stomach in an attempt to get it to calm down.

  
  


“Someone doesn't want that, though...” he mumbled. “Wish she'd calm the fuck down.”

  
  


“She?” Roman asked, and Peter hadn't even been aware he'd actually said that but he now realized he had. “You think it's a girl?”

  
  


“Maybe...just a thought,” he mumbled. Even getting kicked from the inside he was able to slip into a blissfully dreamless sleep that took him far from the waking world of pain he felt.

  
  


  
  


  
  


Like most people in the rest of the world, the plight of wolves went unnoticed. There were far more terrifying things to worry about than things that shed their skin and ran as animals in the night. Like the flying death machines that stalked the country. Though even those who knew of the existence of the general supernatural were turning their attention towards this new and dangerous threat. In an office far too fancy for its own good a meeting was taking place.

  
  


“Trinity...I suppose you wonder why I called you here.” Asked an older woman who's accent let all involved know she was of French descent.

  
  


“Not particularly, ma'am,” Trinity replied with a hint of boredom. She could not help but notice the guards that stood by the one singular doorway, and that of course made her nervous.

  
  


“Circumstances have changed.” the woman replied, avoiding eye contact as though Trinity did not deserve it. Her bony fingers danced along a stirring spoon setting in the delicate china that held her tea. Her attention seemed far more focused on the steaming swirls that it created. “For the time being the werewolf and his little half breed welp are no longer our prime concern. As you are aware there is now a much greater threat. Long ago I may have asked you to change your target...but I fear that you're too involved in this case now. Not to mention it's become clear that you do not share our values and prove more of a threat than an asset.”

  
  


“What are you saying?”

  
  


“Oh don't make me say it, Trinity. We no longer require your services? I suppose 'you're fired' would be a blunt way of putting it, although this was never truly a job in the first place.”

  
  


“What? Why?!”

“Do you think we're stupid? Do you think this organization has gone on as long as it has on the backs of dullards and the mentally challenged? Here, let me explain it to you...First of all, we know that even if we switched your directive you would still go after the werewolf and his sire. A task which we know you've failed at. And no, it was not because the upir attacked you. We never trusted you from the beginning, Trinity.

  
  


That's why all of the guard detail with you wore wires. It's true, we considered letting this go for some time. After all, you're quite skilled. A foreign assassin who only got caught once...and that's because your obsession with the hunt. You're dangerous, Trinity. You put our Order in danger, you compromise missions for your own gain. We can't have that here.

  
  


So here's what is going to happen. You are no longer to associate with us. If you capture the werewolf again we will not be coming to your aid. You are alone in this. It is our understanding that if we leave them alone, they leave us alone. We cannot have them meddling in these affairs when the consequences are so dire. We truly suggest you don't bother the two of them either. If you lead them back to us, the results will not be pretty for anyone involved.”

  
  


“You _motherfuckers_...” Trinity said, letting out a laugh. “Wow, you're really all about that holier than thou attitude, aren't you? Ooh, the consequences will be _dire_. Don't _fuck_ with us or it won't be pretty. Why don't you go home and shove that Templar bullshit right up your aging twat? Be sure to use plenty of lube 'cause God knows it's like a fucking desert up there.” she said, standing from her chair roughly. She kicked it aside, not hard, not too aggressively, but just enough to make a point. She strode towards the exit but turned once more to face the woman sitting stone-faced at her desk.

  
  


“Go ahead, show me why it won't be pretty. Rain your Holy fire down upon me. I'll be waiting.” She turned again to shove roughly past the guards and out into the open. She didn't need them. She'd do things her on way, on her own, without their shitty laws and ridiculous regulations.

  
  


The woman sighed in the silence off her office, the guards still standing there in the off chance that she may return. With little concern for her own safety, she took up the cup of tea that had been steaming there for several minutes and took a deep sip.

“ _Salope folle_... ”

  
  


 

Art:

 

 

This isn't entirely relevant but I wanted to do something cute

 

but uh

 

idk, is it? maybe. Peter looks like he has more ass than he has because his hips are kind of tilted back awkwardly

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i don't know french


	18. Love, Sex and Hatred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoobuddy, first of all, I apologize for the weird shit that happens in this chapter. Just, sorry, in general. 
> 
> Second of all, this fanfic has now surpassed the length of the original novel for Hemlock Grove, which was 336 pages. Currently, the fic is 349. 
> 
> Third of all, there are some links at the bottom of the page of what Peter's insides look like and what he looks like as of right now outwardly, pregnancy wise. I'm linking it in case people don't want to see it. 
> 
> Fourth: I hope y'all like this chapter okay sorry it's kinda weird and maybe a little gross

The turning scare only made them realize more that they were never, ever truly safe. Well, truthfully they had already known that. They would never truly be safe from anything, but after a long talk in which Peter laid around half naked with ice on his ribs, languishing in mild agony, there was the realization that some kind of plan had to be made. It happened when Peter awoke that afternoon, sending Roman to the kitchen to fetch a baggie full of ice and the weed out of the van because he _was_ smoking and he didn't give two shits what anyone said. 

  
  


Of course Roman fought him on it, but then he realized that if he didn't do it himself Peter would've gotten up to get it anyway. He knew he shouldn't be smoking  _anything_ carrying such a delicate passenger but cold turkey was hard and pain was harder. But was something that regularly fucked with his insides like it wanted to play jump-rope with his guts be considered delicate? Something that had tried to eat his organs because it wasn't getting enough food? If this thing was in distress, it would probably let him know in the most unpleasant of ways it could think of with its tiny, half developed brain. 

  
  


  
  


Roman had come back looking almost sheepish and ashamed by the fact that he was apparently whipped enough to do whatever Peter asked. He laid there in his underwear with the sheets pulled around him just enough to have the illusion of some since of decency. Propped up on every pillow in the room, both cold and too hot at the same time. Watching Roman sit at the side of the bed pensively staring at the floor. He felt a different kind of guilt starting to eat up at the inside of him the longer he watched him. Roman looked so tired. He looked different. Roman was no longer that boy he met sitting outside school and smoking cigarettes. He was a man, though still almost as young as the day he met him, who'd given up so much to protect the thing he loved.

  
  


He'd given up his sleek stylishness and though Peter knew what he wore was high quality, it was no longer black on black, pressed suit bullshit. He was wearing a pair of jeans that Peter knew at one point were quite dark, but had faded due to the lack of care he'd given them. They had frayed edges and holes from the lifestyle he now lived. His shirt was given the same treatment. A thin, once black t-shirt that had started to turn grey and had holes and frayed edges in various places. He was still able to take care of his hair, somehow he knew how to cut it on his own which was surprising to Peter, but it was at the moment a bit messy. Some places uneven and chopped where he couldn't see quite as well. He had thin white lines along part of his jaw and cheekbones where he'd cut himself a hundred different times shaving because he no longer took the time to do it carefully. They were very faint scars he would sure would disappear in time but it was just another example. 

  
  


Roman had given up. He'd given up his home, his life, his habits. He'd given up all this shit for a person who couldn't even have the courage to tell him he loved him. Peter realized that this only made him love him more. Roman was selfless in a way that he was only selfless to Peter. He'd done  _so much_ for him. He was forced to turn away from him in an attempt to forget about this, to light up the joint he'd taken from him and take a drag. His lungs ached from not having smoked it for a while but not as much as his ribs. When the first hints of THC started to reach his brain and make him feel more relaxed, he reached over to tug at the bottom of Roman's shirt until he realized Peter wanted him to lay down. He kicked off his shoes, which were once polished and pristine, now scuffed and torn on the front and side edges. Peter passed him the joint in solidarity when he'd settled. 

 

“You're such a pain in my ass...” Roman said as he took the joint from him. Brushed his fingers a little too long on Peter's to savor the touch. Roman wasn't subtle but he didn't need to be at this point.

 

“I know...” Peter responded sheepishly.

 

“You know you aren't supposed to be smoking this shit.”

 

“Who's going to stop me?”

 

“Me,” Roman said, taking a drag and holding it in his fingers for a moment. Not to pass back to him, but not to keep it from him either. Peter reached over to take it with very little resistance, raising a brow at him at the statement as it found its way back to his grasp. “Are you?”

 

“No...Fuck,” Roman sighed. “When did I get so whipped?”

 

“Are you afraid I'll kick your ass if you say no to me?”

“No...” Roman's reply was nervous, probably a lie but Peter wasn't sure.

 

“You should be.”

 

He heard a huff of laughter come from next to him, and he turned his head as he took the smallest of hits from the joint to stop himself from getting fucked up too fast. Roman was staring at the ceiling in silence. A poor and broken man. “You look like someone just died...”

 

“I'm...” he stalled, reaching over to take the joint away from him but he only held it in his fingertips instead of smoking it. “I'm tired.”

 

“Then go to sleep,” Peter responded as though he spoke all the laws of the universe and Roman was stupid for knowing none of them.

 

“I mean mentally. I know it's been a minute...but you still freaked me out last night. But what's even worse is that I didn't know what to do again. I keep freezing up. Every time something happens to you I just...freeze. I don't get it...”

 

“Maybe you're just thinking too hard about it.”

 

“About what?” Roman asked, raising it to his lips but he left it there for a moment, like he forgot he was supposed to be smoking.

 

“You try too hard to protect me.”

 

“Am I not supposed to?”

 

“No, it's fucking annoying...” Peter's comment was half joking and half serious. He did get annoyed by Roman always trying to be there for him. He appreciated it but he wasn't a fragile doll. “Nothing happens if you fail to save people you don't really know or care about.”

 

“And?” Roman asked, annoyed but reigning it in enough as he rested his hand between the two of them.

 

“So nothing happens to you. But you're so fucking worried about losing me that you over think it. You need to chill.” He reached beside him, to grab the joint from Roman's hand, to take a light drag and speak to him as his lungs struggled. He choked a bit at first, voice strained when he continued on. “Maybe shit would be different if you were home. In a place that you know. You've got shit figured out there. You're somebody. Out here? You're no one, just like everyone else.”

 

“Thanks,” Roman mumbled. “I'm no one.”

 

“Welcome to my world.”

 

“Do you have to rub it in that I can't cut it out here?”

 

“I didn't say you couldn't cut it...” He coughed slightly and made an attempt to roll onto his side. He shoved the bag out of the way and set it on his other rib, as the one he rolled onto had a lot less pain in it than the one that had been sticking out of his chest. He winced and let out a slow breath while he attempted to acclimate to the position. He found that he preferred to be on his side lately, regardless, because it took some of the pressure off his abdomen.

 

Even though it hurt the feeling of something laying directly on his insides unsettled him a bit more. He could feel the shifting under his skin as the baby tried to settle into its own comfortable position, which was weird as fuck to him. Weird in so many ways. Weird that he could feel something moving under his skin that was alive, and that apparently it was old enough to be felt so strongly and here he was still small as hell. Thank God for small miracles. But that was a bit of a lie. Whatever weight he put on was localized to one spot along his abdomen and it made certain clothing uncomfortably tight unless he pushed it further down. He may not have even noticed had it been for everything not fitting right all of the sudden. It's hard to notice a change so gradual, even though it seemed to be happening so quickly.

 

Roman gave him a look of concern but kept quiet, simply averting his gaze as he rested his hand between the two of them, close to Peter's and borderline on top of it so that he could take the joint from him when he felt like it.

 

“If you're not saying I can't cut it, what are you saying?” Roman asked accusingly.

 

“I don't know...There is no cutting it, I guess. It's whatever.”

 

“Are you seriously high already?”

 

“...Yeah. Probably. Shut up. What I'm saying is ...just because it's not easy, doesn't mean you're not cutting it. It's never easy.”

 

Roman laughed at him, which for a moment annoyed him but it faltered as he turned to face him. He took the joint from him again and did nothing with it for the moment other than hold it there.

 

“How did you get high that fast?”

 

“I lost my tolerance...I'm not that fucking high. I'm trying to have a serious conversation, shut up.”

 

“If you were trying to have a serious conversation you shouldn't have been sitting here smoking.” Roman teased.

 

“Fuck off,” Peter responded, yanking the joint back from him and taking a drag, kneeing him in the thigh lightly at the same time to bring emphasis to the phrase. “You're such an asshole.”

 

“Am I really?” Roman said, snatching it back from him before he even really had a chance to pull it away. He held it out of his reach though Peter didn't feel the desire to actually go after it. “You've beat the shit out of me more times in a few months than I can count.”

 

“Maybe if you weren't being a fucking asshole...” Peter mumbled. “I'm sorry...” He felt guilty for a split second before until Roman breathed in the smoke and, still holding the embering bud in his fingers and smoke in his lungs, leaned forward to kiss him. He breathed it into his mouth and Peter sucked it down, kissed him slowly and let tendrils of smoke slip from the part of his mouth that was open. It was lazily passed between the two of them, unintentionally as it might have been. When Roman pulled away, Peter watched as he put out the ember between his fingertips with a dull wince, and set the remainder on the table beside him. There were ashes in the bed and on the table because neither of them had thought to track down anything like an ashtray but that was not something either of them were concerned with.

 

“If it was anyone else I might kick your ass. But you don't hurt me...I hurt myself more than you actually hurt me.”

 

“Are you calling me weak?” Peter said with a glare. Roman matched it, only he raised a brow as though it was a challenge and Peter found he couldn't take his half threat serious anymore and let out a soft laugh. There was a stark silence in the room that made it hard for Peter to focus on anything but Roman's lips. As he laid across from him and Peter fought to keep his eyes off them, so he didn't end up kissing him again because he was high and he wasn't sure what he might say if this kept going. But maybe it wasn't so bad... Maybe he could kiss him. Maybe he could stop hurting him inside and stop playing these stupid fucking games. He swiped his tongue along his lower lip, breathed in and prepared to go for it but Roman moved away. Purely on coincidence he happened to move so that it broke Peter's line of sight. He was forced to look back up at his face, to feel disappointment and relief mixing together somewhere in his stomach.

 

“I'm so tired of losing you,” Roman said somberly. “I know I'm fucking high but I need this to stop.”

 

“Yeah?” he stammered, unsure of what the word meant or why it was posed as a question as it stuck to his tongue like a too thick peanut butter sandwich. He cleared his throat and searched the recesses of his brain that weren't inebriated for a correct answer. “Yeah...It does.” He made sure to look anywhere but his face, tilted his gaze towards the stitches on his neck and only let it drift briefly back towards him, only when either of them spoke. “But I don't know what to do about it.”

 

“I don't think it's safe here.” Roman said, a nervous sort of waver in his voice. “I mean, it's safer here than out there but it's not completely safe.”

 

“Do you think an underground bunker is _unsafe_?” Peter asked, a little taken aback. Why did Roman think they weren't safe? At least, their location in general. 

 

“No, but it could be. I've been down here for days. I haven't seen what's out here in these woods. I want to go look, I want to make sure no one's watching.”

 

“Okay...” Peter said, thinking that maybe some of this was coming from weed induced paranoia but Roman was generally a paranoid person. “Just ...give me some time to heal up.”

 

“I'm not taking you out there,” Roman said with conviction.

 

“Like hell you aren't,” Peter responded, clearly annoyed. “After last time...I'm not going to let you go out there alone. Even if it puts me in danger...not knowing is worse.”

 

“Peter...” Roman sighed, clearly about to start with his reasoning but Peter cut him off.

 

“I'm coming with you. I'll be fine. I'm not going to turn again just because I go into the woods.”

 

“You don't know that.”

“I know enough. You either let me come with you, or you keep your ass down here.”

 

“This is fucking stupid,” Roman grumbled. “You know it's dangerous.”

 

“I'm really sick of you treating me like I'm fragile. I'm not. Stop it.”

 

“I'm going to have to watch you...”

 

“Don't.” Peter said, looking him in the eyes now. He felt as though something behind them was burning, staring holes into Roman's soul to penetrate it with the knowledge that he was very much serious. “Don't watch me. I'm not a fucking kid. I'll let you know if something's wrong.”

 

“Okay...” Roman relented. “Shit it's going to be hard trying to unlearn this.”

 

“Well, fucking start.”

 

He turned on his back for a moment, once again wincing from the shift in position but he was beginning to get used to it. He was annoyed with Roman and didn't want to speak to him at the moment. The silence and his lack of speaking began to calm whatever annoyance had befallen him. The THC in his system certainly didn't make matters worse. He had been falling into a peaceful stupor, brain shutting off and allowing him to sink into the bed while he stared up at the ceiling. It was a state of relaxation that left him feeling numb and pleasant, but not relaxed enough that he didn't jolt in surprise when he felt Roman reach over him, to lay his hand on the hip that was opposite him. He settled his arm across his stomach, and Peter knew it was his way of copping a feel in the one place he told him not to touch without actually doing it. He didn't feel like fighting him on it. Still, he let out an exaggerated exhale through his nose and closed his eyes as he spoke.

 

“You're not subtle.”

 

“What am I trying to be subtle about?”

 

Peter scoffed and rolled back onto his side to face him, effectively blocking him access to his stomach in the way that he had been. He watched as disappointment flashed across Roman's face for a moment but he hid it well. He reached his hand up to lay it along Roman's neck, the side with the stitches, which he gently ran along the edges of.

 

“You can't even be subtle about trying to be subtle.” Peter said, letting his words trail off as he caught himself staring down at Roman's mouth again.

 

“You're not subtle either...” Roman replied, and he watched briefly as he formed the words before darting his gaze back towards the rest of his face. He gave him an annoyed glare, a silent huff, and his hands were on the back of his neck to hold him there while he kissed him. He was always such a contrast. Roman felt so damn soft. He could get lost in his mouth for hours if it wouldn't eventually get tedious and disgusting. He made him feel warm, relaxed, loved. He felt fucking fantastic. Fantastic enough that for a minute he forgot he needed to breathe, but when he pulled away the lack of oxygen and drugs in his brain made him forget what it was to not run his goddamn mouth. For that minute, he forgot why he shouldn't speak. Panting for breath he averted his gaze, looked towards Roman's lips, then his shoulder specifically.

 

“I...I think I could love you,” he stammered. Something in his brain was telling him to shut up, or that what he was saying was a bad idea, but another half of it was conflicting. The other half that didn't understand why he kept trying to hide this shit. It got confused, telling him the reason he needed to shut up was because he couldn't talk straight. He couldn't talk straight and he needed to correct himself, that was the problem. The only problem. “I mean...do. I think...” What was he saying again? Everything seemed all mixed up, because his heart was suddenly pounding in his chest and all the blood was rushing to his head. It was messing up his thoughts, and the process in which words got from his brain to his mouth. Intercepted in some way and mixed up into phrases he didn't intend. Fucking Christ, could he think for five seconds? He gathered his thoughts before he spoke again. “I think I love you,” okay, that was right. That sounded right.

 

Wait, no, that sounded wrong. He wasn't supposed to say that. He drew in a sharp inhale through his teeth, winced at his own stupidity and brought himself into a sitting position. He felt his head and ribs protest with pain and dizziness, something told him to lay back down but sitting up made him feel more in control. 

 

“Fuck...shit!” he cursed, “I didn't mean to say that.” He wanted to retreat into whatever nice high he had going on before he decided it was okay to talk. Instead he focused on Roman as he sat up with him. He looked almost terrified. Afraid to say anything, to speak, to move, like startling a deer. He watched him swallow and let out a shaky breath, looking up at him nervously. He breathed in once more and it was audible, thick with some unseen emotion that hid in his throat and his lungs. On the tail end of this breath he spoke. “Do you?”

 

Every fight or flight mechanism going off in his brain told him to take control of this situation again. To tell him 'no', no matter how much it might crush him. Peter needed to fix this, to make it so it had never happened. If only he had Roman's gift. Instead he would have to talk himself out of this. He'd lie his way out of it with his own gift; the gift of tricking people. He opened his mouth with full intention to tell him some lie. To save this situation and let this whole thing be buried in the obscurity that was their own shared inebriation. It was this inebriation that seemed to hinder him further. With every intention, with his mouth and brain getting ready to form that crushing blow, he looked at Roman and what came out was, once again, not what he intended. What came out was the word 'yes'. He kept trying to fight it. He wanted to save this once again but every time he looked at him, the words that came to his mind and the ones that came from his tongue were different. He stammered several times trying to tell him off but all he could tell him was that he loved him. It was fucking stupid.

 

“Jesus Christ I'm so fucking high...” Peter groaned finally, looking away from him. Roman gave a laugh in response, but it wasn't a normal one. It was some manic, breathless and elated laugh that you might hear from someone on the cusp of insanity. Before Peter had time to react Roman grabbed him and kissed him hard. He fought him for a moment and it didn't take Roman long to realize Peter wanted him gone. With the first hint of Roman's lips abandoning his, he had the sudden urge to stop him. A very quick change of ideas, and he reached his hand behind Roman's head and held him there to kiss him once more. It was an unbelievably passionate thing. An admittance, the true reason for everything he felt and all the reasons why. He knew he loved him, Roman knew he loved him, there was no reason to feel bad about it. To not want to kiss him, to keep fighting internally with himself that this was all because of the baby. It very well may have been but for now he could say he loved him. He could say with fifty percent certainty that maybe it was all just him.

When he finally pulled away he couldn't help but feel a mild sense of regret. Even though technically he had freed himself from the constant inner turmoil, that freedom had come with a price. In a way he had freed himself only to be trapped once more. Everything came with a price, though. Nothing in life was truly simple. Love was compromise ; messy, sometimes painful. It could also be wonderful. He knew to love something so damaged and dangerous might lead him further down a life of pain rather than rapturous elation. Maybe that was the way it was supposed to be. Two creatures dealing with the burden of an internal agony that no mortal would understand. Roman knew him in ways he'd never dared to show anyone else, intentionally anyway. A life with Letha...it could've been easy. It should have been easy. But to think about it now he'd have lived the rest of his life with a secret. He didn't think she truly ever understood what happened that day in the church. He may have recalled her thinking the whole thing had just been a bad dream. So maybe what they had would be messy, and it would hurt, but maybe there was truly no one else it could've been.

  
  


“Don't make me regret this...” Peter mumbled. “Don't ...go fucking nuts like your mother.”

  
  


“I could never be her.”

  
  


“I'm not so sure...” With a sigh, Peter ran a hand across his face as he contemplated the current situation. “Are you...happy? Are you satisfied?”

  
  


“Did you just say it to make me happy?” Roman asked, and there was a very slight air of disappointment in his tone.

  
  


“No, no...I'm serious. I do think I love you.”

  
  


Roman let out a soft laugh and looked away from him, running his hand over his mouth in some kind of nervous gesture. He ungracefully settled back onto his side with a very rough thud as he made no attempt to stop himself from falling quickly. Once down, he rolled half way onto his back but still remained somewhat on his side, looking up at him and seeming amused by a joke Peter wasn't in on.

  
  


“Do you remember when I asked you yesterday if you remembered what you said before you fell asleep?”

“I guess...”

  
  


“You told me you loved me.”

  
  


“What?” Peter asked, exasperated. “Seriously, man? And you had me do all this shit?”

  
  


“I didn't want to scare you off.”

  
  


“Where the fuck am I gonna go Roman?” There was annoyance in his tone, high in pitch and frantic but it was more light hearted than it was angry.

  
  


“Man, I don't think this shit over.” Roman said. Peter laughed at him, and instead of laying down he leaned over to kiss him, although at first he seemed to not expect it. The position was awkward and Peter didn't exactly want to lay back down and managed to find himself on top of Roman. He broke away momentarily to let out another chuckle and respond to Roman's comment. “You're a fuckin idiot sometimes, Roman.”

  
  


“Okay,” Roman said with mock offense. “You too.”

  
  


“Fuck you,” Peter mumbled, leaning down to kiss him again. Like all things intimate, Peter felt that dull stirring heat in his groin that only amplified when he felt Roman's hands on his hips. One leaving it seconds later to drag his nails up Peter's back. It was a light scratching but no less made Peter arch his back at the sensation. There was that surge of heat that went straight to his crotch that, for a moment, Peter considered rutting up against Roman had he not been distracted by another sort of stirring further up. He considered pulling away but the minute he did he only wanted to go back. Roman chased his lips, reaching to thread his fingers in his hair, to pull him back down.

  
  


But _someone_ had other plans. That distracting movement turned into something far more sinister. He suddenly felt like he'd been punched straight in the bladder from the inside. He realized now he had no idea when he even last used the bathroom was, but being kicked there made the need ever more apparent. He took in a hissing breath, sitting up and trying to gather his bearings because for a second he was afraid to move. He winced slightly and let out a slow breath. Apparently fun-time was over.

  
  


“Peter?” Roman asked. Peter knew what that statement meant; his name alone but he was wondering what just happened.

  
  


“I'm fine...” he responded. “Let me up.”

  
  


“I'm not stopping you...” Roman said, letting his hands fall to his side. Peter, in response, gave an annoyed 'ugh', annoyed for reasons he couldn't quite identify but he could be annoyed by the smallest shit now and days. As he was climbing out of bed he felt a second sharp pang in his bladder that made him stumble, brought him tripping out of bed and onto the hard floor. It didn't feel good on his knees. For a moment he could only focus on the shock of falling, the pain of getting kicked in the organs, and the thought of climbing off the floor. But apparently being kicked in the bladder did more harm than he had anticipated. After being pummeled twice, and then with the sensation of movement low in his abdomen he suddenly realized he was very fucking damp. Oh, that fucking bitch. Not out of the womb and he was already pissed off at her...it, whatever.

  
  


“Mother _fucker_!” Peter shouted suddenly, just as Roman finally shot up to make sure he was alright. It had happened in a matter of seconds but it felt like it had taken so much longer. Time seemed altered. Peter knew he was still high but he could feel it slowly dissipating. Evidently pissing yourself was sobering.

  
  


“What the fuck happened?” Roman asked.

  
  


“Don't-...do not speak to me right now,” Peter said, still trying to get his bearings long enough to stand, but he hadn't' just yet. He had to calculate the least disgusting way to stand up right now.

  
  


“Oh, shit...” Roman said, but there was an air of a laugh in it and that only pissed Peter off more.

  
  


“Shut up, fuck you.” Peter said. “It's not fucking funny. There's nothing funny about this.”

  
  


Roman was silent but his actions spoke for his words, as he rolled off the opposite side of the bed, grabbing the towel Peter had earlier abandoned. He came to stand next to him, offering him a hand which Peter took and hauled himself up. Roman helped to wrap the towel around his waist and settled his hand across his shoulder, urging him towards the door.

  
  


“Come on,” he said gently. “I'll help you get cleaned up.”

  
  


“I'm not an invalid...” Peter mumbled.

  
  


“I know you're not.”

  
  


He kept his hand on his back, almost leading him, even though Peter didn't need it. But it helped. He realized that with Roman trying to help him it spurred him into action. Even if he didn't need Roman's help it was nice to have it. Roman wasn't actually treating him like he couldn't care for himself, he was just being nice. Even with such a ridiculous mood killer. They had been very much enjoying themselves before he had been rudely kicked in the bladder by this pissy little passenger. Roman could've mocked him for it, been pissed off about it, but he didn't. Peter appreciated that.

  
  


“Has this happened before?” Roman asked suddenly. The question was awkward like he didn't know how to broach it.

  
  


“You asking me if I've ever pissed myself? When I was a kid...”

  
  


“I meant lately, with the whole baby thing”

  
  


“No...You're always around me, I think you'd know.”

  
  


“It just...seemed like it kind of came out of nowhere. Is this something I need to watch out for when we're on the road again?”

  
  


Peter groaned and considered shoving him away but he knew he was just trying to be good to him. He didn't really like talking to him about it, though. It was fucking embarrassing.

  
  


“I don't know, Roman...She kicked me in the bladder, twice.” It took him a moment to realize that he'd given this thing a gender, but the word 'she' had been floating around his head lately after the dream. Around this point they finally made it to the bathroom, and Peter immediately pulled away from him to strip off his underwear and head for the shower.

  
  


“That's the second time you've said that...” Roman said, moving to sit on the lid of the toilet. “Ugh, two girls...I'm not equipped to deal with two girls.”

  
  


“Then start getting equipped.” The shower came on moments later. Roman's voice was harder to hear over the water but he managed to catch most of what he had to say.

  
  


“Nadia's different but...what if she starts asking questions? Like, why her sister has periods and she doesn't? Why we gotta give her sister the talk but not her?” Roman groaned in frustration, and the next thing he said was muffled. Peter had to assume he had his head in his hands. “Fucking periods, man... Periods and hormones. Shit, I'm going to have to chase away every boy that gets close to her.”

  
  


“Roman,” Peter interrupted. “You don't have to think about that shit now. I don't even really know if its a girl. I'm not psychic.”

  
  


"What the fuck am I gonna tell Nadia, though? How am I going to explain to her that the reason she's not like other kids is because she was fucking kidnapped and mutilated?"

 

"Roman!" Peter shouted. "Could you just...fuck, get over here." He could hear the shuffling of his movements over the sound of water and saw him round the corner. 

 

"What?"

 

"If you're going to have a mental break down at least do it where I can hear you.”

 

“I'm not having a fucking mental breakdown.” Peter's response to this was to look at him incredulously through the shower curtain.

“Take your clothes off,” he responded verbally. Roman was clearly taken aback by this. Peter watched the gears turn in his head as he tried to formulate a response. It was a choked and high pitched 'What?' that finally made its way from his throat.

 

“Come on,” Peter said, making a broad gesture in his direction. Roman complied and disrobed if not with some hesitation. To see a 7'9 giant standing there looking confused and very naked like someone who probably felt far smaller than he was right now, made Peter laugh. He reached out to grab his wrist and pulled him forward. He stepped in and Peter put both hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eyes.

 

“Okay...Listen. None of that shit matters right now. We'll figure it out. Girl or boy, we'll make this shit work, okay?”

 

“Yeah...” Roman replied sadly. “But what if-,”

 

“Stop,” Peter interrupted, to reach up and grab the side of his face with one of his hands. It turned into less grabbing, more a gentle cradling. Roman's hair was very slowly getting wet and it made the fingers that made their way into his hair tangle slightly. There was a split second between both of them looking at each other for a moment and Roman leaning down to kiss him as he leaned up. An instantaneous reaction like some kind of magnetism passing between the two of them. Roman forgot what he was upset about. Peter forgot about pissing on the floor. Well, he'd already forgotten that to the best of his ability. He'd washed up the best he could while he listened to Roman bitch. Distracted as he might have been he'd already cleaned all the important parts and anything that had been soiled.

 

 

He was back to where they had been in the bedroom, far less concerned with the unpleasant sensations in his innards because the situation no longer existed. He was free to remember that despite turning, being sore, confessing his feelings, shaming the shit out of himself, he was still kind of turned on. It was amazing how easily he could forget everything Roman had said in that moment, and make him forget all of it as well. He pulled away to push the shower head down so that it wasn't hitting them as much and then shoved Roman against the opposite wall. The position was still awkward as hell with the curve at the end of the bathtub but he made it work.

 

“Holy fuck,” Roman breathed out as he hit the tile. “You really that eager?”

 

“No,” Peter said, surging forward to kiss him again before he pulled away and reached his hand between the two of them. Roman was hard between him, Peter was not far behind. He grasped his cock and slid his thumb up, kissed him when Roman drew in a hiss of breath and pushed his hips forward. He pulled away only far enough to speak, to let Roman feel the question he breathed out on his lips. “Do you feel better?”

 

“Is that what you wanted?” Roman asked. His tone was uncertain but Peter could hear the arousal lurking beneath it.

 

“I wanted to get back to where we left off...” Peter responded. He pulled away far enough that the distance between them allowed the cool air to slip beneath their bodies. They were no longer so close that it couldn't touch them. Roman shivered slightly now that the water wasn't on him as much anymore. “You know what I've never done?” he asked.

 

“What?”

 

“I've never sucked your dick. We're going to make today a day of firsts,” Peter said, sinking to his knees. Roman looked down at him, and he could see the uncertainty in his eyes. Uncertainty and arousal, just like the tone of his voice.

 

“Oh fuck...okay,” Roman breathed. “What are the other firsts?”

 

“I don't know yet,” Peter said with a smirk. With Roman's cock still in hand he lowered his head far enough so that he could run his tongue from base to tip, dipping it into the slit before taking just the head in his mouth. Roman was silent other than a louder than normal exhale that continued several seconds. He jerked his cock slowly until he could sink down to the hilt. Peter had experience with blowing guys. He had experience training his gag reflex to take a dick. Today, however, he seemed to have lost that experience. The minute he took him down he had to pull away, fighting not to gag but he drooled onto the fiberglass of the tub quite excessively. Apparently being pregnant made it harder to control that reflex. Now, he was fighting not to vomit but he was producing an excessive amount of saliva.

 

“That doesn't usually happen,” Peter said hoarsely. He felt the need to defend himself; he _knew_ how to suck a dick, he just didn't plan on this happening. 

 

“How many guys have you blown...?” Roman asked curiously.

 

“I don't know, a few. Why does it fucking matter?”

 

“It doesn't,” Roman said defensively. “I think it's kind of hot, actually.”

 

“You get off to the thought of me blowing guys?” Peter asked with a laugh.

 

“Well, maybe _now_ I will. Never really thought of it before. You don't have to do this, though.” 

“I still got this,” Peter defended. He continued jerking his cock and let his tongue bathe the head again. He still pulled him into his mouth every so often, using his hand do to do most of the work his mouth couldn't. He listened to Roman's panting breaths above him and could tell from the way his hips twitched he was trying really hard not to shove his dick right into the back of his throat.

 

After a minute or two of this, Roman suddenly grabbed him by the hair and tugged at it enough to let Peter know to pull back. Peter looked up to find him looking disheveled even though he was standing in the shower. Chest rising and falling in almost exaggerated movements with how hard he was breathing.

 

“Peter...as much as I like you sucking my dick; it's great, really...” Roman seemed to stop to catch his breath for a moment, letting out a low sigh before he finished speaking. “I really want to fuck you. Like, now. If I don't I'm afraid I might accidentally make you throw up.”

 

“In the shower?” Peter asked, struggling slightly to stand up to face him.

 

“I mean...yeah. Maybe. Shit, that's a pain in the ass, though, isn't it? Literally, there's no lube in here.”

 

 

Peter chewed on his bottom lip for a moment as he tried to consider how this would work. Fucking him in the ass would be inevitably painful because the only thing Roman had was spit, and it was a tight spot that needed a lot of it. Not to mention all this water, it would dry shit out most likely in the long run. But Peter had one more idea; truly a day of firsts. He didn't know why he was considering it in the first place. To let Roman do the one thing he  _knew_ he wanted to do to him, but had told him it was never going to happen. Okay, day of firsts. Besides, if he didn't do this now, this was never going to happen, and truth be told, Peter kind of wanted to know. 

 

 

He grabbed Roman by the wrist, pulled his arm up to his face so that he could pull his fingers into his mouth. He watched as the breath caught in Roman's throat and this pleased him. He made sure to get them as coated as he could before gripping his hand and shoving it between his legs. Pushing his fingers against the opening that had given him so much strife. He was going to stop letting it control him. He was going to be the one to control it. It surprised the Hell out of Roman, though. He let out a startled breath and looked at him like he wasn't sure what to do.

 

“Seriously?” he finally asked. “I thought you didn't-,”

 

“Just do it. I gotta get over it some time.”

“Do you think it's safe?”

 

“Probably...Come on, you were the one who said it was hot.”

 

“I mean, I did...but I didn't actually think you'd _let_ me.”

 

“What, you think it's gross now? Is that it?” Peter asked somewhat defensively.

 

“No!” Roman defended. “No, I still think it's...pretty hot,” he mumbled the last part, almost like he was embarrassed to say it. “But I'm not gonna do this unless you're sure, because if it freaks you out I'm going to feel like shit.”

 

“Do it,” Peter commanded.

 

“Fucking Christ... _Fine._ ”

 

“Never seen someone so conflicted about getting their dick wet.”

 

“Don't make it gross,” Roman groaned. “Just...let me know if it's too weird. I'll stop.”

 

“Thanks,” Peter said dryly, and he put pressure on Roman's fingers until Roman finally took the message and pushed one of them in. He pushed himself closer, leaning against his chest and propping his foot up on the curve of the tub so that he had more room. The first thing he noted, when Roman got in _very_ easily, is that it was not much like an ass, or a pussy. It felt weird as fuck. He'd never felt anything in this area before and he had no idea what he was even feeling at all. It was wider and a little more open than an actual vagina, at least that's how it felt to him because he'd never bothered to put anything in there. 

 

“You sure you're alright?” Roman asked, brow furrowed in concern.

 

“It's fine,” Peter responded, the phrase coming out a little short. Roman slipped the second finger in with ease and he was finding that it didn't need nearly as much prepping as he thought it would. Roman still moved his fingers though like he would anything else. He had nothing to look for to give him any particular pleasure but it didn't feel...bad, per se. Just different. It didn't really feel good, either. He thought maybe it needed something more. Roman was brushing along something that felt...okay, but it wasn't enough.

 

“I don't really think you need to be prepped this much...” Roman said, pulling his hand from beneath him. Peter felt some kind of slickness trail down his leg as he did so and Roman cautiously looked down at his hand once it was between them. There was a very, very viscous fluid on his fingers that definitely wasn't spit.

 

“Uh...shit, is this normal? Do you feel okay?”

 

Peter felt his face heat up slightly at the sight. He supposed it was normal for the area to not be stark dry in there. It looked like a thicker version of whatever girls secreted when they were aroused. But Peter knew that he didn't get wet like a girl when he was turned on. He had to imagine it was because it was being stimulated directly. It was a little weird and made him feel self conscious but he pushed the thought from his head.

 

“It's probably because you're touching it..Sit down, I'm not fucking you standing up.” Roman complied by easing himself onto the floor of the tub, and Peter pushed the shower head down further because he knew it would be hitting them more if they were on the ground. It was now or never. He lowered himself down so that he was kneeling in front of him before he climbed into his lap. He had his legs wedged tightly between the shower wall and Roman's hips. Shower sex was fucking annoying. He was focusing on grabbing Romans cock beneath him and startled slightly when he felt a hand come to rest along his hip, then another. Roman gingerly brushed his thumb along his skin soothingly, waiting. Getting his dick in was a little harder than his fingers. The angle was weird. He had to shift his hips closer to Roman's stomach to finally sink down far enough to get it to go in. When he was far enough in that Peter felt he didn't need to hold onto his cock anymore, he balanced himself on Roman's shoulders by grabbing onto them. 

 

When he finally seated himself the best he could, it felt a lot different. There was some bizarre stretching but not in the way he would usually feel it when taking cock. He could feel it radiating all the way down his groin. He let out a stuttered gasp and leaned his head against Roman's shoulder. Roman did the same, sucking in a breath and holding it for a moment until he got used to the feeling around his cock. It kind of hurt. Roman didn't fit in him like his fingers. He didn't fit right at all. His cock was pushing against one of the inner walls instead of straight.

 

“You don't have to do this,” Roman said, rubbing his hand up his back.

 

“I'm okay...I just...its fucking weird. Is your dick okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Roman said with a laugh. Peter was still, shifting his hips slightly so that he could try to get a better angle.

 

“What does it feel like?” Peter asked curiously.

 

“Wet...kind of tight, rigid on the sides. What about you?” Peter straightened up slightly, pulled himself up and then pushed himself down to experiment. He felt a low jolt of pleasure run straight though his cock, so he did it once more and found the same result. He let out a low hum, took in a breath that trembled its way into his lungs and stilled himself once more to answer him.

 

“It's like...you've got your dick in my...uh, dick.” he mumbled. “That's what it feels like.”

 

“That sounds really fucking painful,”

 

“No, it's not, I promise.” He leaned forward now to kiss him softly at first. He almost wanted a distraction. The realization that he'd let Roman into the place he told him not to; the place that was so embarrassing to him, it was making him feel nervous and self conscious. He moved as kissed him and felt Roman breath into his mouth somewhat heavily. He did not entirely share the sentiment. He needed to gain a rhythm first. He rolled his hips forward as Roman worked with him to thrust back. This was...okay. When Roman pulled out far enough, pushed against the back wall of the opening, Peter could almost feel it hitting his prostate. There was a sizable wall of tissue and fat separating them but he still felt it.

 

He pulled away and bit down on his lip as he worked to try to get into the perfect position. It took a good deal of concentration but he thought he might have the angle he wanted. He had been fairly quiet this whole time, more so than Roman who watched him with panting breaths, but after a few moments the rhythm started really working for him and he let out a strangled moan from his throat. Roman responded by thrusting back into him a bit harder, moving a hand to his hip and back area to hold him, while the other held his back. It felt good, but it was a truly strange experience. It was like getting a handjob, but from the inside, and on two different sides of his dick. He had to imagine that this kind of stimulation wasn't going to happen to him giving birth. God, he hoped not. That would be really awkward.

 

 

God, everything felt so fucking wet. It was like his insides were butter; so goddamn smooth. It made things a little harder than he would have anticipated. It was a lot harder for Roman to stay in him when he thrust out with how slick it was. Thankfully he was practically sitting on his pelvis. The slick slipping and sliding was far lessened by this fact. Even with how weird and wet it was Peter was really struggling now to keep quiet. He was now desperately chasing his way to the edge, rolling his hips against him and biting his lip while his lungs struggled so desperately to make him cry out. He was practically holding his breath until Roman thrust into him particularly hard and he failed, giving out a startled and breathless moan.

 

“Fucking Christ,” Roman said, warped slightly from the way it wrapped around something that might have been some expression of pleasure. “Let them know, Peter.” He only fucked him harder, faster, and Peter found he couldn't contain himself anymore. Letting out desperate gasping cries that shook when he released them.

 

“Fuck yeah,” Roman moaned. “Let them fucking know.” He grabbed his hips and forced him down as he thrust up. “I want the whole world to know how good I fuck you.”

 

“God, Roman.” Peter said, warped like everything else, but it wasn't an expression of pleasure. “You're such a fuckin' psychopath,” this ended with a laugh, which turned into a moan when Roman hit him just right again.

 

“I'm not a psychopath. You're just fucking pretty, 'n I've got you all to myself. Right?”

 

“Right.”

 

Roman laughed slightly, but it was more of a breathless panting wheeze than a laugh but Peter got it's meaning.

 

“No one's going to get in here because you decided you wanted to fuck me in the shower.”

 

“You're gonna make me feel bad,” Peter panted, letting out his own light laugh. “Why do you do this? Why you decide sometimes you're going to start talking like a bad porn dialogue?”

 

“'Cause you really get me excited,”

 

“Fucking touch me, then.” Peter demanded. “If I excite you so much.”

 

“Okay,” he said, reaching between the two of them and gripping his cock. Peter let out a pleasured sigh and bucked his hips against Roman's hand.

 

“Fuck, _thank you,_ ” he moaned out.

 

“Thank you?” Roman asked with a laugh.

 

“Shut up,” he moaned. He was riding a wave to the edge and he needed to concentrate. All it took was Roman touching him to help him over it.

 

The minute he finally reached climax he leaned his head against Roman's shoulder, panting and trembling slightly, his hips still jerking into his hand.

 

“For that...” he mumbled. Seconds later Roman gripped him tightly and gave a few final thrusts before spilling into him. With Roman's face somewhere on his collarbone he felt an exhale of amusement on his skin. Peter pulled away enough to slot himself between Roman's thighs to lean on his chest. It was a somewhat awkward position that made his spine ache but he desired the physical comfort.

 

“You better appreciate that I let you do that...”

 

“I told you, you didn't need to do that. Are you okay?”

 

“I regret it...kind of.” Peter said, sitting up again and pushing the hair away from his face. “Really don't think you're supposed to put a dick in there.” Despite the fact that, at the time, he had enjoyed it there was a deep ache in his groin. Not to mention even sitting as he was he could feel a slick fluid leaking down his thigh. He really wished that he'd have known this would happen before he went shoving shit in there. Hopefully everything in there was still intact. When he got his bearings he stood and moved beneath the water. By this point it was lukewarm but he'd had worse showers. When Roman stood and moved in behind him to stand in the spray, Peter turned to him.

 

“I'm sore as hell and this-,” he paused, giving a broad gesture downwards. “This is fucking gross.”

 

“What, your dick?”

 

“No, jackass. All this leaking bullshit. Shut up.”

 

“Seriously, are you good?”

 

“I'm fine...just annoyed.”

 

The rest of the time was spent in relative silence, and it was truly a testament to how awkward bathing was with an audience. Still, confessions of love and weird sex be damned, a sense of normalcy settled back into their lives like a thick blanket. Warm and comfortable if not for the looming knowledge that shit was probably going to get stifling and a little to heavy. The warmth of a shower had helped to lessen the ache in his muscles, though unfortunately not completely. In the back of his mind, though he said nothing and neither did Roman, the notion of his confession made him nervous. Without the haze of good vibes the sense of paranoia was slowly settling back in. Despite this paranoia the two of them set out to do what they said they would. To take a look around the parameter of their current dwelling to make sure it was safe.

 

 

There was that telltale nip in the air of winter but it almost seemed to be edging itself away. Peter realized he didn't have any clue what month it was, but it seemed to be giving way to spring. He had the realization that they'd missed Christmas and no one had bothered to tell him. Not like that shit was important anyway. They'd never really celebrated it in his family other than getting together and making it a social gathering. He remembered getting drunk as shit with Destiny when he was sixteen on Christmas Eve and his gift that year had been copious amounts of vomiting and headaches. He missed drinking...

He jumped slightly when his thoughts were interrupted by Roman closing in on him and putting his arm along his lower back. It was a sort of romantic gesture that Roman might not have even been aware he was doing, but it was as though subconsciously he'd been given the go ahead to treat Peter more like a lover than a friend. He knew that they weren't friends anymore and Roman knew that too, but Peter wasn't feeling very touchy feely at the moment. Something out in these woods felt weird and he didn't like it.

 

“Dude, no.” he mumbled, pulling away slightly. Roman said nothing, and Peter could see that maybe he wanted to apologize but decided to drop it all together.

 

 

“Did you ever celebrate Christmas?” Peter asked suddenly, watching absentmindedly as his speech formed faint, wispy clouds of heat in the cold air.

 

“I guess...” Roman replied. “Why the hell are you asking me that?”

 

“I think we missed it...No one even said anything. It doesn't matter to me, but...” he trailed off. “I mean, I'm pretty sure you did. I don't know why I'm asking.”

 

“Did you?” Roman asked.

 

“Not like other people.” Peter said, feeling a sudden chill come over him as the wind blew. He shivered slightly and wrapped his arms around himself, beginning to regret the closeness Roman had offered him. “I mean all the gift giving and shit...it was just about getting together. It was a family thing.”

 

“That sounds nice...” Roman said, and Peter caught his gaze and the brief flash of concern on his face as he looked to him. There was a hesitated movement in his hands,wound tight like springs begging to burst.

 

“It sounds like you didn't have the same experience.”

 

 

In response to this, Roman let out a brief sigh. “No. I mean it was just me, Shelley, and Olivia, after dad died. Sometimes Norman was there but I think Marie was always suspicious so he didn't really show up. Olivia has no maternal instincts, though. She'd just throw nice shit at us, sitting on the couch dressed to the nines on Christmas morning, already drinking wine or some shit...'Open it, darling', she'd say.” His last phrase was said exaggerated in some horrible British accent and though the story wasn't funny, Peter laughed slightly. Roman didn't seem entirely happy but he still laughed. “It was fun for a while I guess but that was her way of showing affection. She's like a fucking snake. Cold. I'd much rather have your mom...”

“I'd much rather you _not_ have my mom.” Peter said. Roman looked confused for a moment before he looked away, finally realizing the error of his ways.

 

“No, I mean...shit, you know what I mean.”

 

Peter breathed out a laugh at this and felt the distance between them disappearing before he was suddenly pushed up against the side of him, and for the moment, at least, he enjoyed it when Roman's arm hesitantly found its way around him again. They forgot what they were out there to do for a moment, it seemed. Nothing was out of place for the time being. They simply enjoyed each others companionship in relative silence, aside from the heavy crunch of leaves beneath them. Nothing else living had yet come back to these woods. Perhaps they spoke to soon, as their own footsteps were not the only ones they heard.

 

 

Four foot steps in the distance; no, six. One sounded human, the other sounded much heavier. It was more like walking, and then two stilted, scraping drags along the Earth. The closer it got, the more they heard. A low and whimpering growl, almost a whine, that drifted through the stillness of relative stillness of the air. Whatever it was, it wasn't human. Inhuman probably wasn't safe. They said nothing in preparation to sneak back to the bunker when they saw it. The shimmering black, the wings, the muscular torso. They were here too...But something wasn't right with it. It looked to be in agony, and that's when they noticed the rope, and the hooks. Thick rope tied around its neck, but branching off in knots that were tied to hooks which penetrated the skin of its wings and back. That was why it was walking, using its wings as a second pair of legs on all fours. Someone was _leading_ it.

 

 

From behind the trees the figure made themselves clear, and though Roman had no idea who it was, Peter did. There was a sudden paralyzing fear that crept through his limbs as she emerged; Trinity. Fucking Trinity. How had she found them? Or had she truly found them? Was this a coincidence? But she knew; she knew they were there and she smirked with such a devious expression Peter could see the depths of her insanity creeping out into the open. She let out a sharp whistle, and the rope wrapped around her wrist loosened as she allowed the creature to run forward. A hissing screech filled the air and the thing was upon them faster than they could react.

 

Fearing the worst, Peter braced for impact before it stopped just in front of them. Trinity yanked the rope back and the creature whimpered in pain, falling to the ground as she placed her heeled boot heavy into it's back.

 

“Well, well. What do we have here?” she asked. “A little wolf lost in the woods? I have to say, you're not the ones I expected to find.”

 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Roman asked, and he immediately put an arm in front of him to protect him, though Peter didn't think it would do him much good. Peter tried subtly to grip the back of Roman's shirt, to pull him back and get him to run at a moments notice. He was not as subtle as he thought.

 

“The name's Trinity, and I know who you are. Your little freak of nature over there knows who I am, too. I see you, don't think I don't.” Trinity said with a grin. “You take one more step and I let this thing eat you.”

 

“Nice to see your fucking psychosis knows no bounds.” Peter spat. “I almost feel sorry for this thing.”

 

“So feisty..You sure you're not a cat? Here's what we're going to do, okay?” Trinity said, stepping off the beasts back and getting far close than Peter would like. “Now...I'll let you in on a little secret. You were far better off when The Order had me on a leash. That's over, now. Now, I could kill you right now. I could slit your throat and make him watch,” she said, gesturing towards Roman, who seemed to be trying to think of a retort but it was lost on him. “But I wanna see what makes you tick. So, if you come with me, the both of you...nice and slow, I won't kill you immediately. Sound fair?”

 

“Fuck you,” Roman said suddenly. “Do you think I'm afraid of you?” But Peter knew he was bluffing and it was a stupid bluff. He could feel himself cringing internally.

 

“Oh, you should be. But you know, you're really fucking annoying. I don't need you. But you know what? I think my friend's pretty damn hungry. Maybe you'll make a light snack,”

 

Despite her pretty much warning him, Trinity was faster than Peter had anticipated. She'd struck like a viper, coming round to the side to wrap her arm around Peter's neck and collar bone while she loosened the rope in her grip just enough for the beast to knock Roman to the ground. Her mistake, a mistake that would prove fatal in the long run for her, was playing with him. She did not let the thing get close enough to actually get in the final blow, tightening her grip so that each time it tried to get its jaws in him it couldn't.

 

“Fucking cunt,” Peter hissed, struggling in her grasp. She was way stronger than she looked, even with one arm. No wonder she had this thing on a leash. “I'm going to make your life Hell,” he panted. “I swear to God I'll make you swallow every one of your teeth if you fucking touch him.”

 

“What are you going to do?” she laughed. “You're nothing. Love has made you weak. You'll break the minute he's dead.”

 

While Peter had her distracted, amusing her with her with his threats, Roman took the chance to disarm her. He was able to shift his lower half just enough to swing his leg out and trip her. She stumbled, not so much tripped, as she knew what was happening seconds after it happened, but it was enough to let her guard down. Peter slipped from her grasp as he grabbed the hand holding the rope, twisted her wrist hard until he heard a sickening pop resound from it. When her hand was limp, and she screamed and cursed in pain, Peter took the rope from her and swung his knee into her back so that she fell to the ground. With only one working hand she hit the ground hard, falling on her shoulder and letting out an angry and pained roar.

 

 

It took seconds but every one of those seconds seemed an eternity when the beast now in his control was not nearly as contained as it had been, and he felt like he was mere seconds from letting the thing accidentally take Roman's head off. He yanked back on the rope and it let out a hiss of pain, struggling to get at him but it wasn't nearly close enough. He pulled back until Roman was able to slip out from beneath it, stumbling and tripping his way to Peter's side as he struggled to get away as quickly as he could. Trinity was glaring at them from her place on the ground. She struggled to get up, but the leaves beneath her slipped and she could not find her footing.

 

 

 

The beast had turned its attention on her now. It was ready to kill the thing that had enslaved it, its hunger now focused on the one thing that was now in front of it. Peter backed up enough until he was as far away as he could be with the rope still in his hand, then let go. The minute it lunged the both of them took off as fast as they could manage while it was still distracted. Once they'd made it a good way, they heard gunshots in the distance. The screeching stopped. The beast had been slain, but Trinity was in no shape to come find them as it was. The danger clearly had not passed. She _knew_ where they were now, and so through labored breaths they spoke and came up with a plan, running all the way back to the bunker.

 

“How the fuck did she find us?” Peter asked, his tone filled with disbelief and pitched higher in distress. “And she had that fucking thing...” Peter thought back on it, remembered the way it looked. It was clear how she'd tamed it. Not sure exactly how she'd caught it, but it'd been beaten into submission until it had the chance to rebel. He supposed if he had wings, and someone was holding a rope that attached to sharp hooks in his skin, he would not rebel either.

 

“I don't know...We've gotta get out of here, though, Peter. She's too close.”

 

“I know, but where the fuck are we supposed to go?”

 

“She said...” Roman stalled, long enough to catch his breath. “She said we were lucky when she was on The Order's leash. That mean's she's not on it, anymore. She's alone...So she's not going to get the intel she was getting from them, or the orders.”

 

“Okay?” Peter breathed out. “Where are you going with this?”

 

“I think...” as they came to the bunker, or at least close to it, Roman let himself stop monetarily to breathe. He let out a ragged cough now that he could, the cold air stinging his lungs. “I think right now, the safest place is home.”

 

“Are you kidding me? You want to go back the place we had to run away from?”

 

“Look, if The Order isn't looking for us right now, it's safe to go back for a bit. Pryce said those fuckers totally bypassed the place but even if they hadn't, The White Tower is probably more heavily guarded than anywhere else. But wherever we're going, we've gotta get the fuck out of here now. Just..get in the van.”

 

“Did you forget someone's fucking living in it right now?”

 

“...Yes. Shit, okay. Look, give them the ultimatum. They can come with us, or stay here.”

 

“Roman...” Peter started, not sure where he was going with it, but it probably had something to do with him being an idiot. “Jesus Christ, okay. Just go get the shit. And warn them, they've gotta know what's coming.”

 

 

Roman gave him a brief gesture of understanding and took off through the bushes and disappeared out of sight. The minute he was gone, Peter headed towards the van and roughly threw open the side doors. Even with all this bullshit going on, in the chilly van surrounded by a sheets and bags, Peter forgot that Lana and Cassidy weren't in this bullshit. They were into something, though, and that was clearly each others pants. Peter turned away on instinct the minute he caught sight of an exposed breast but he'd very clearly seen them making out and Lana with her hand in a place that was maybe a little too hot for television. The entire situation momentarily threw him off, and Cassidy shrieked slightly as Lana tried to cover herself.

 

“Did your mother never teach you to knock?” Lana hissed.

 

“Uh....did your fucking parents never tell you not to fuck in someone else's car?”

 

“What else are we supposed to do?” Lana retorted.

 

Peter turned back to them hesitantly, peering with one eye until he realized they were decent again and he had to get back to the reason he was out here in the first place.

 

“Look, we gotta go, and you're in our car. So you can stay here or you can come with us because it's too dangerous to try to get yours.”

 

“Is everything okay?” Lana asked, the moments prior suddenly forgotten as concern for him was now the primary issue.

 

“No, it's not. That's why we have to get the fuck out of here. We've been found. You haven't seen anyone nosing around this van, right? No one planting fucking bugs?”

 

“No...I think you're good.”

 

“I think doesn't sound very convincing.” Peter was very nearly about to drop down and look under the van when Lana made a very sudden and jarring noise to get him to stop.

 

“Let me do it.” she said, climbing out of the van and dropping down. She took her phone out of her pocket to use the flashlight, looking for anything suspicious. “You've got precious cargo and you don't need to be laying on it.”

 

Peter was momentarily annoyed that he was being treated like this but she was right. Instead he examined the outer parameter of the van to make sure no bugs were lurking. Sure enough there was nothing he could find, and nothing Lana could find either. She pulled herself up and dusted the dirt and leaves off her still somewhat undone shirt.

 

“You're good. And sorry to say, but we're coming with you. I don't think they'd let us stay here. Right, Cassidy?”

 

“Yeah,” she responded a little hesitantly. Around this time Roman emerged, carrying a large duffel bag and the cooler full of blood. He shoved them in the back and gave a look towards the two girls in the back, opening his mouth to speak but being silenced before he could.

 

“We're going.” Lana said.

 

“Alright...” he said, climbing into the front moments later, to be joined by Peter on the other side. He took a quick look at his phone, seemingly at a map app, and set it in his lap moments later.

 

“It's about five hours from home by highway... But we can't do that. Highways are too dangerous, too close to main towns. So we're going to have to take the back roads...We can take turns if we need to since there are four of us. We might be able to make it home by tomorrow morning if we're lucky...and we should try not to make too many stops.” Roman looked at him at this point, questioning almost.

 

“Why are you looking at me?”

 

“Do you think you can do that?”

 

“Do what? Not stop? Why wouldn't I be?”

 

“Because you spontaneously pissed yourself in the house...” Roman mumbled.

 

“Roman!” Peter hissed. “I don't think the fucking dead heard you, why don't you be a little louder? Shut up.”

 

“My mom peed herself all the time when she was pregnant with my brother,” Cassidy said from the backseat. “It's totally fine.”

 

“Oh my God...” Peter mumbled, feeling his face go hot and he slumped down slightly in the seat, using an arm to cover it.

 

“I mean, we could deal with it if it happens...” Roman said.

 

“Would you shut up? Seriously? It happened _once!_ Jesus Christ, just drive.”

 

“You sure you don't need to pee first?” Roman asked. Peter knew, at this point, he was just fucking with him.

 

“I regret everything I fucking said to you back in the bunker.” he mumbled. Roman laughed at him, or perhaps at the situation itself. Peter could beat the shit out of him about now but in some way it almost made him feel good. They'd escaped death, were running back to the place that wanted them dead in the first place, to where so much heartache and death had happened. But somehow, Roman sort of made him forget how bad it was by making fun of him. Even if he was being a dick he appreciated it, but he'd never let Roman know that.

 

For a moment it was more normal to fuck with him, to make jokes, to piss him off over things that truly weren't important, than it was that they were running from an assassin. From monsters that should not exist far past the point that even they should not exist, at least not to the public eye. Roman said nothing more to him as he drove away, turning the radio on low and listening to its drone to break the silence. For a minute, this was good. For a minute, he could forget.

 

 

_**HERE ARE THE ART LINKS** _

 

_**[Inner Anatomical Diagram 3/4 View](https://i.gyazo.com/61823863fe6bd8a89ef816040b597cba.png) ** _

_**[Inner Anatomical Diagram Profile View](https://i.gyazo.com/080a96e225e0f30755035546c309ce14.png) ** _

_**[Peter as he is now, sans all his clothes but boxers](https://i.gyazo.com/2b37e9a114e49347ae4ef3ba4724209a.png) ** _

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look if I didn't have Peter get dicked down at least once in the Walmart brand vagina I couldn't live with myself I'm sorry 
> 
> Also the reason Peter is shirtless in that last pic, even though I had said originally when I did pics of him pregnant he would be clothed, is because had he been wearing a shirt you wouldn't have been able to see anything


	19. Tell The World I'm Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's some sex in this chapter and also some kind of traumatic vomiting sorry 
> 
> anyway once again it's time for me to thank my readers because i'm too much of a shy bitch to actually respond to comments but
> 
>  
> 
> AGAIN
> 
> i truly do appreciate it 
> 
> for those of you who just found this, or for those of you who stuck through this bullshit from the beginning 
> 
> thanks y'all
> 
> and sorry i don't respond
> 
> EDIT:
> 
> P.S  
> THIS WORK NOW HAS COVER ART. If you want to see it, it is on the first chapter

The forest was silent now, the dead thing lying at her feet with bullet holes aplenty in its body. Trinity stood before it, the sound of her heavy breathing filling in the stillness and silence. She took her lame arm in her hand, wincing slightly with the pain. Luckily the cur had not completely broken her wrist. It was definitely dislocated and that she could deal with. A quick twist, a hollow pop, her teeth gritted in pain and letting filter forth a muted groan. She shifted her fingers, they moved deftly but they ached. Dislocation may not have been her only problem. Perhaps a hairpin fracture; damn it, she would need it to heal before she took any further action.

 

Truly, Trinity had been there not to find the mongrel and his lover, but to find the beasts that hid in human skin she _knew_ still lived. The pack lead by the one named Paige. She'd sifted through the wreckage long ago and found no bones. She knew they had escaped, just not to where. She had found the secret tunnel, or at least what remained of it, but it no longer went through. Burning the house down had damaged it to the point where the rubble had caved in the door, blocking any access to what might lie further on. So they must have been lurking around here somewhere. They hadn't been her primary concern before and again, they weren't now. It was mere coincidence that the two of them happened upon her. Seeing them again reignited the fire she had to catch at least her primary target.

 

She had to admit that she did not normally go after couples, though. Or if she did it was never in the same place. Human as she was she could sense an intense fire in Peter that even people begging for their own lives did not have. Perhaps Peter had not noticed it, but she'd noticed the same thing in Roman though he was trapped beneath her now dead beast. A fear, a rage, for each other rather than themselves. It was almost...endearing. Trinity was a killer, it was what she did. Cold, calculating, maybe a little sadistic. The memory of what she'd seen that day, though, was beginning to thaw the ice from her heart she feared. Maybe she would kill them apart, rather than together. Maybe...

 

Nevertheless she holstered her pistol and made her way back to the off-road vehicle she'd parked somewhere in the woods. On the back of it was a sturdy trailer, now empty. Even she realized she couldn't control that creature on a bike. Blood stained and empty, it now sat unused and most likely wouldn't be used for quite some time. She wanted her bike back, after all. It was back to square one as she drove off, unaware that somewhere in the distance she'd once again lost her prey though she knew she was too weak to take it down as it was. They headed in separate directions, and continued to leave two incredibly separate lives.

 

 

 

 

 

Road tripping with thee upirs was bizarre. Peter had always been told to stay away from them, all his life, yet here he was with one possibly mentally unhinged boyfriend...thing. Boyfriend? Whatever, and two confirmed murderers. They had not stopped driving since they left, but it was becoming apparent that Roman was exhausted. As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, and Roman stared out upon the blackened sky that seemed to swallow everything outside the beams of the headlights, he was tired. Like the sun, his eyelids dipped as well and he was very nearly falling asleep at the wheel.

 

“Roman!” Peter yelled, yanking him from his brief slumber.

 

“I'm awake,” he grumbled in response.

 

“You weren't. Jesus Christ, pull over. Let one of us drive.”

 

“I don't want you to drive...last time I did you went missing.”

 

“I'll drive,” Lana said from behind them. She was busying herself with her phone and seemed particularly bored.

 

“You don't know where we're even going,” Roman retorted.

 

“So send me the directions or something, I'll figure it out.”

 

 

Roman let out an exhausted sigh. They were right, he needed sleep. He couldn't go like this until they got back home, he was going to pass out. He pulled over and sent her a quick text with the link to the directions and swapped spots. She took a look at her phone as Cassidy swapped spots with Peter and he settled into the back with him. He couldn't see Lana well from his position but she seemed perturbed from where she sat.

 

“This is where we're going...?” she asked.

 

“Yep,” Roman said as he settled back against the mattress. “You sound upset about that.”

 

“I just remember hearing about those murders...”

 

“Really?” Roman laughed. “You're freaked out about murders? _You?_ ”

“Look, when I'm the one doing the murdering I know what's happening. I heard it was some ...deformed heiress or something. Super weird shit.”

 

“That was a fucking lie,” Roman said suddenly, his tone sharp and angry. He was suddenly feeling much more awake now that his blood was boiling with anger. “It wasn't her, it was a vargulf.”

 

“How do you know?” Lana asked, starting the ignition.

 

“Because I'm the one who took care of it.”

 

“Excuse me?” Peter piped up. “ _You_ took care of it?”

 

“We took care of it...” he mumbled. “Actually, no. That _deformed heiress_ is the one who took care of it. And that's my sister, so watch your fucking mouth. She wouldn't hurt a fly.”

 

“I'm sorry...” Lana said, her voice far softer than it had been. “I didn't know.”

 

“Just...forget about it. Drive, please.” Roman mumbled. That burst of anger was sapping out the last bit of energy he had left. I wasn't long before he was falling asleep. Peter settled in next to him, somewhere against his upper chest, helped to bring a great sense of relaxation to his already weary and tired body. The last thing he remembered was slipping his arm beneath Peter's back, to rest his hand on his shoulder and pull him close. The warmth bringing him into that sweet and dreamless abyss.

 

 

 

Peter wanted to join him in this sleep. He knew he was putting too much trust in these two upirs to get him home, but he would like to sleep and wake up there. Not to mention he was tired. He was, unfortunately, a slave to something that was not him but decided taking up residence in his body for however long it wanted to be in there. Something incredibly fucking rude. He tossed and turned about a hundred different times, trying to get the thing to settle down, but it kicked him incessantly. It felt like someone was shoving their arm through his intestines and he didn't like it.

 

“Are you okay?” came a soft voice from the front seat. It was one at first that he didn't recognize; he rarely ever head Cassidy speak. He only let out an annoyed groan in response. She gave a response that Peter didn't expect; something so caring to come out of someone's mouth that he knew ate and killed people. “Can I do anything?”

 

“No...” he mumbled. “Unless you can stop this thing from trying to …burrow behind my guts.”

“I don't think I can do that,” Cassidy said with a frown. Peter did nothing more than let out a vague groan and rolled over to bury his face in Roman's ribs. It wasn't long before Cassidy spoke to him again, as she knew there was no way he was asleep.

 

“How far along are you?” she asked curiously, and though Peter had most of his face in Roman's shirt he could peer from the side to see she was looking at him.

 

“I don't know,” he said, turning his head enough so that his voice carried. “The last time I checked was fifteen weeks...but that was a while back.”

 

“How does that work?” Cassidy asked. “I mean...don't you know when you two...” she made a vague gesture but Peter understood.

 

“It's on steroids or some shit,” he responded with a little bit of embarrassment that Cassidy was mentioning their sex life. “When I got checked he told me I'd skipped a whole month. But this thing never stops moving and wants to kick me to death from the inside so I'm pretty sure I skipped another several weeks.”

 

“You're probably...six months?” she said, ending it in a question as though she wasn't sure. “But that doesn't make much sense...you're so thin.”

 

“There's a reason I wear loose shirts...” he said in a quiet murmur. Despite the fact that he couldn't sleep he was still exhausted.

 

“I love babies...” Cassidy said wistfully. “Lana, why don't we ever settle down?”

 

“Because we eat people, Cassidy. We kill and eat people. I don't think that's a very good home life.”

 

“Okay but...I mean, these two are living out of a van...”

 

“I don't recommend it,” Peter piped up.

 

“Yeah, see? He doesn't recommend it.”

 

“My biological clock is ticking, Lana.” Cassidy whined.

 

“No it's not. You're only fifty.”

 

“You're _fifty_?” Peter asked. They looked to be about mid twenties.

 

“We don't age, remember?” Lana asked.

 

“How old are you...?”

 

There was a silence from the front, other than a low murmur of Lana humming to attempt to get her brain working. “I don't know...seventy? I think it's seventy.”

 

“How long have you been doing this?”

 

“About thirty years...Off and on. We sort of change our M.O every once in a while and settle down in communities long enough to get fed. Then we go out again.”

 

“You're surprisingly trusting telling me how long you've been murdering when you barely know me...”

 

“I know you've got secrets too. Secrets that I know, so I think I can trust you with ours.”

 

Peter thought this might have been a bit of a threat. He didn't want to give them any more reason to not trust him. Peter probably _wasn't_ the most trustworthy person by nature but they had a lot of dirt on him, and they knew it as well as he did. He came to realize he wasn't quite sure what their relationship was, though maybe it was not friends. Acquaintances, secret sharers, maybe just a few steps away from enemy. He needed no more enemies.

 

“I'd think someone as old as you might have a different dialect.”

 

“We adapt well.”

 

“Roman's mother still sounds like she's stuck in 15th century England or some shit.” Clearly, this was an exaggeration.

 

Cassidy startled him slightly with a muted groaning noise. Lana responded with one of her own as though she knew exactly what that noise meant and she wasn't pleased with it.

 

“Can I please feel it?” Cassidy asked, not sure what she meant for a minute. “Your belly, I mean. I have to live vicariously through other peoples pregnancies because Lana won't let me have a baby.” The last part was said pointedly towards Lana, who scoffed.

 

“I'm not _stopping_ you.”

 

“I don't even let Roman do it...” Peter said, looking over to make sure he hadn't woken up. “Not really.” He didn't like people touching him like he was some kind of sideshow pony.

 

“I'll be quick,” she said hopefully. Peter groaned at this. He didn't want her touching him but if he let he maybe she'd shut up.

 

“If I let you...will you let me go to sleep?”

 

“I thought you couldn't sleep.”

 

“I can't but this isn't helping.”

 

“Okay, I promise, I'll be quiet.”

 

With a low sigh he rolled onto his back and felt the unpleasant shift in his abdomen as he did so. “Alright, get back here and do it already if you're going to.” This elicited some kind of pleased noise from her and she climbed into the back as deftly as she could in a moving vehicle and a crowded space. She knelt beside him and he reached out to grab her hand a little rougher than she might have expected. He pushed it against what, to feel, was definitely a firmer protrusion in his abdomen. He felt the protest of being touched in his stomach and it seemed as though it actively tried to push her away before rolling over.

 

“I don't think I ever felt my brother move as strongly as that baby just did...” she said a little taken aback. Peter released her hand and she sat back a bit before climbing back into the front seat. She was silent for a moment before breaking her promise to be quiet. She turned back to him once more, after he'd rolled over on his opposite side facing away from Roman.

 

“Can you send me pictures when it comes?” she asked hopefully.

 

“Maybe...” he grumbled. “I thought we made a deal, though.”

 

“Okay, I got it.”

 

 

Somehow, the concept of not sleeping because someone was talking finally let him drift away out of what almost seemed like pure spite. He dreamed of some nonsensical looking shit that probably had a deeper meaning, but he could not be sure. A wolf and a serpent, but in the distance a cobra. Massive, looming, threatening with its tongue flicking out to taste the air. It slithered towards the pair and seemed to be so much larger than anything that could make sense physically. It took up every space, every mass, and everything else went black. The much smaller serpent let out a hiss in an attempt to defend itself but was quickly struck down by the cobra. It swallowed it in seconds, turning its attention to the wolf before a slightly smaller viper of some sort wrapped its tail around the cobra's middle. They fought, rolling and entwining, hissing and striking, leaving the wolf watching from the distance. The smell of their spilling blood seeped into the air so strongly he could almost smell it in real life, he felt like. But Peter suddenly had the sensation that he couldn't breathe very well, and that something was touching him. Something wet and filled with pressure.

 

 

He woke up with a gasp, finding someone's hand over his mouth, or rather his nose but it was all in the same area. Without thinking he quickly shoved it away to find that it was only Roman, and he truly hoped that he wasn't trying to smother him in his sleep.

 

“What the _fuck_?” he asked breathlessly. His nose felt kind of stopped up and it was hard to breathe. This lessened slightly when he sat up.

 

“Take it easy, Jesus!” Roman defended. “You're fucking covered in blood. I was trying to get it off.”

 

Peter took a moment to notice that he was, indeed, covered in blood. Him, Roman, and half the sheets. He swiped a hand over his face momentarily to find out it was coming from there. Jesus Christ he thought he was done with these fucking nosebleeds for a while. The shift in position did not do much good for him in the long run. Sensitive as his gag reflex was, he felt something massive shift inside his throat and it immediately made him start gagging. Roman was quick to pull the trashcan over to him. It was an unsettling sensation; it was not quite his stomach that was protesting, but whatever was behind his uvula.

 

It set off a chain reaction that made him gag until he truly vomited, pulling up whatever was in his stomach, which at the moment was mostly blood. Bile and blood, and blood clots. It was fucking disgusting, but nothing compared to what finally emerged from his throat. He had a vague memory of him sick from school one day watching one of the Harry Potter films on ABC Family or some shit, one of the times they actually had basic cable. He remembered a particular moment in which someone vomited slugs, and how it had not helped with the illness he had that day. In his horror, the reason he remembered this moment in time, was because it looked almost exactly like that. A thick, black blood clot the length of his hand it seemed like. When the thing finally emerged he let out a disgusted groan and felt a full body shiver shoot through him at the sight of it all.

 

Roman hand his hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles above the cloth and he felt pretty grateful for it at the moment.

 

“You good?” he asked, absentmindedly pulling away some of the hair that was stuck to his forehead.

 

“Yeah,” Peter responded, panting slightly. But it did not take him long to realize that this wasn't the truth. The stirring had not abated. With a low groan he mumbled a distraught “No,” before leaning back into the trashcan. It was not quite as easy as the first time. There wasn't much left in his stomach to bring up but it had yet to stop contracting from the gagging he did earlier. It was a tense and agonizing strain that left him struggling to breathe. Left him drooling blood stained spit and nothing else for several seconds. Whatever came up next was misery; a guttural gasping and heaving that sounded like someone had taken his lungs and squeezed them.

 

 

He breathed heavily once he felt like he could get his breath back, giving out a few more abated, choking dry heaves before he pulled himself away. Somehow he found himself leaning against Roman's chest, not sure when he'd gotten there but the energy had been sucked from him and he slumped like some kind of liquid state.

 

“I thought I was fucking done with this...” he murmured. “Jesus fuck...”

 

 

“You want me to stop?” Cassidy called from the front seat.

 

“Stop where?” Peter croaked out.

 

“Um...well, the side of the road? There's no rest stations around here.”

 

 

He took a look at himself, and how he was covered in sweat, blood, and drool. Shaking a bit like a leaf on a mildly breezy day, nothing too extreme. He hadn't used the bathroom since they'd left and it was morning and he knew if he didn't he'd be suffering for it later.

 

“Look..I know you said not to stop-,”

 

“It's fine.” Roman interrupted. “Yeah, just stop.”

 

 

When the van stopped Peter climbed out long enough to relieve himself behind the vehicle, then back in to try to sort out this whole blood situation. The shirt, no doubt, could not be saved. He threw it off in a heap into the corner before grabbing a water bottle and a paper towel roll, cleaning himself the best he could, here on the side of the road with no mirror and the frigid nip of the tail end of winter. He made an attempt to brush his teeth of the horrid taste that was in it and ended up with an unpleasant toothpaste to water ratio but he managed. Roman was already handing him another shirt and had stripped the bloodied sheets away by the time he turned back. He pulled it on as he climbed in, shutting the door beside him and leaning onto the bare mattress.

 

“How much further is it?” he asked, ready to fall asleep again at a moments notice.

 

“Not much further. You want me to take over?” Roman asked Cassidy from the back, who's only initial response was to start the ignition.

 

“Nope, I'm good.”

 

As the van pulled off, Peter rolled onto his back again to look at Roman, who was sitting next to the mattress as opposed to on it. He seemed lost in thought but it could be that he was just tired. Absentmindedly, Peter reached out to lay his hand on top of Roman's. It startled him a bit, seemed to bring him out of his thoughts. He gave a half, sort of sad smile and gestured for Peter to move over so that he could lay next to him.

 

“Does Pryce know we're coming?” Peter asked, shifting his position so that he wasn't too close to Roman but close enough.

 

“Yeah, and he's not happy about it. We picked the right time because Olivia is apparently MIA, but according to him that's a bad thing...”

 

“What are _you_ so unhappy about?”

 

 

There was a brief silence before Roman responded. He laid his arm along Peter's hip and gripped it to pull him closer, seemingly desiring his comfort and closeness. Averting his eyes, he swallowed and spoke.

 

“Did you see them too?”

 

“See what?”

 

“The fucking snakes...” Peter nodded at this, and it seemed as though Roman was more worried about this than he was. He continued on with his suspicions, and he felt the nervous twitch of his fingers on his hip. “I think she's gonna try something. Olivia, I mean.”

 

“You said she's missing, though...”

 

“I'm guessing Pryce is gonna fill me in on what's happened but...I don't know. It means we aren't safe there for long, either. If she comes back she'll find us for sure, somehow. What did you see? What did that thing kill?”

 

“The snake...”

“It killed the wolf, in my dream. I think it's her. She wants you or the baby dead. No fucking surprise but even if it's weird and symbolic if we're seeing this shit it means we're in danger.”

 

“I thought you said we'd be safe here? In the tower.”

 

“Yeah, that's before I knew what she was planning...whatever it is she's planning. Somehow she's got Pryce wrapped around her fingers. I wouldn't be surprised if he gave us up to save himself.”

 

“He already put himself in danger letting us escape...Do you really think he'd do that?”

 

“I don't know...I don't know if you realize but him and I aren't really best friends, and he's a fuckin' coward. And I know he's going to want to look at you like some kinda fuckin' experiment. You can say no. He can't force you into...treatment, or whatever.”

 

“Don't you think we should?”

 

“Should what, let him treat you like a science experiment?”

 

 

Peter let out a sigh of annoyance, a signal that he wasn't really happy with this either but something in it still conveyed a necessity. “I don't like it as much as you do but if we know what's going on in there, maybe we can figure out how long we have. I don't like not knowing...One day I could be fine and the next I'm waking up giving birth in the back of a fucking van. I don't want that to happen.”

 

 

“Okay...” Roman said with a sigh, “Yeah, you're right. Still don't like the way he looks at you, though. If he wants to get into your pants- I mean....like, medically, you don't have to let him.”

 

“I know...”

 

“He'll probably want to.”

 

“I know,” Peter replied once more with a sigh. He didn't want it, that was for sure, but he wondered if maybe it would be for the best if he knew exactly what was happening to his body instead of guessing. He still wasn't sure if he'd done damage to himself by shoving something in there. All that leaking... Roman had the right to worry, he supposed, but it was annoying to him. He hated that it had to be done too and he'd hate it when it happened, and he'd hate it afterwards, but it was perhaps more dangerous not knowing than suffering the inconvenience of someone staring at his crotch or his insides for a few minutes.

 

 

As another hour passed, and Peter had fallen asleep again, Roman found himself watching him with both worry and endearment. He feared what that dream may have meant, knew that cobra probably stood for his mother. Unlike Peter, Roman had seen the wolf, the small serpent, and the cobra. He felt the malice in its gaze and knew it meant to harm. He sensed its very presence as the same thing he sensed his mother. A cold and horrible beast. One who meant to kill what he meant to protect. He could not act fast enough before the beast devoured the wolf and was set to turn on the smaller serpent, but he recalled attacking. He saw through the eyes of something poisonous and damned, knowing he would soon fall, but the notion of revenge had been strong. He'd smelled the blood that shed from the cobra and himself so strongly that it woke him up, to find that the blood had been Peter's. It left them as they were now.

 

 

To Peter he must not have known when Roman would have had the chance to call Pryce, but truthfully he'd woken up about 6 a.m, called him, and then fell back into that fitful slumber full of dreams he wished he hadn't seen. He knew, truly, they couldn't be safe very long with his mother looming around there, waiting to strike like the snake she was. He feared for him once more, more than his own well being. To see him fall now would make his entire life worthless. How could he continue knowing he'd lost someone he'd loved more than anyone? For now he was peaceful, alive, though so asleep he could have passed for dead had it not been for his breathing. Roman knew the risks, the realization that it might not last forever. He knew it _wouldn't_ last forever.

 

 

In the back of his mind, Roman always knew. If Peter remained with him for the rest of his life, even though now he was still so young, it would come to an end far before Roman's life did, if it would happen naturally. He had no idea how long upirs truly lived. He didn't want to be around to find out, he knew that. He had no desire to live forever. He knew that he would not age, but his children would up to a point. He'd watch them grow up, and watch Peter grow old until he was alone in that cold and forsaken house with no children and no one to love. His children, no doubt, would have moved on. Had children of their own, at least one of them would. They wouldn't need him at that point. He knew that if he could find someone to do it, he could go with him. Still, it hurt to know that he would suffer no aging along with Peter. He would have to watch him suffer, and he had a feeling Peter probably already knew this.

 

 

Every time he came close to losing him, every time he knew that even at nineteen he could die and leave him alone far sooner than Roman wanted, that small thought cemented itself more and more in his mind. It was something he knew he had to accept, but it was hard, because as he laid there, watching him in silence he knew one day he would lay there, still as young as the day they'd met, to find him gone. He cursed the day he chose to forgo becoming human, even if it was to save Nadia. Even if him being upir had technically saved them quite a few times, saved his own life from when Peter tried to rip his throat out, it was a curse in the long run.

 

 

 

 

Another hour went by faster than he could have anticipated, and he'd realized he'd laid there for an hour staring at him like a creeper, but he was brought from his stupor when Cassidy suddenly spoke from the front seat.

 

“Does that say Die Carefully?”

 

Roman sat up in time enough to barely see one of the many entrance signs for Hemlock Grove, the one that brought them into a place where the roads were kind of shitty and congested.

 

“It's supposed to say _drive_ but someone thought they were funny.”

 

“You don't think it's funny?”

 

“...Yeah, it's kind of funny.”

 

“So we're in town...where do we go from here?”

 

Roman didn't think it was wise to bring these two to the White Tower, and though the town always seemed fucked up and dark in some way it seemed relatively safe. No signs of anyone being mauled by flying fuckbats. That was good, at least.

 

“I might have a place for you to stay but you've gotta be quiet, don't let anyone know you're there.”

 

“Any reason why we have to be so secretive?”

 

“I'm sure you heard me talking about my mother earlier. Her.”

 

He gave her a brief set of directions that lead them to the outskirts of town, where his home now sat. Of course all the lights were off, and the grass was no longer manicured as it once was. In fact it was positively overgrown and Roman couldn't help but give an expression of disgust at it.

 

“I haven't been here in a while but the house itself should be safe. I had a good security setup installed after...uh, that doesn't matter.” Roman rifled through the back seat, long enough to wake up both Peter and Lana.

 

“Dude, your house looks like shit.” Peter murmured.

 

“You lived in a fuckin' trailer in the middle of nowhere, Peter.” Roman responded, and it came off sounding aggressive but he didn't mean it to be.

 

“At least I mowed my lawn,” he quipped. Roman shot him a look, and Peter smirked at him long enough to make him break and let out a brief chuckle.

 

 

When Cassidy came to the back to collect her things, he handed her the bag and removed the key from the keyring she'd left dangling in the ignition; the one that opened the front door to his house. He hoped she could _find_ the front door, it was a little weird. He planned to show them around for a brief moment and leave after he called Pryce, but as he went to reach for his phone, Peter stopped him.

 

“We're safe, right?” he asked.

 

“Yeah...pretty safe, I think. Olivia's not here or I'm sure Pryce would've warned me.”

 

“So...maybe you shouldn't call Pryce just yet.”

 

“Why? You want to stick around here?”

 

“For a minute...” Peter said, straightening up now, as he'd not actually bothered to sit up all the way yet. “In your bedroom, while we're alone.”

 

“We're not really...alone,” Roman remarked, but the temptation was pretty strong. No, Pryce didn't have to know they were there right now.

 

“I know that's your thing. I can pull the van into the garage.”

 

“Why here?” Roman asked curiously.

 

“Because I've never fucked you in your bed, and I always wondered what it would be like with that big stupid ass fur throw you have.”

 

“You want me to fuck you on it and you're calling it stupid?” Roman asked, a breath of a laugh coming out with it.

 

“Yeah, it's kinda stupid. Way too excessive, just like the rest of your house. But maybe, uh...I don't know, maybe I want a little taste of the high life too.”

 

“You don't have to beat around the bush, if you want me to do it I'll do it. I can bring it with me, too.”

 

“Okay. I'll be specific. Fuck me on your stupid throw,” Peter said, yanking the keyring away from him. “Go inside.” Before Roman could leave, Peter grabbed his arm to keep him still and kissed him firmly before climbing into the front seat. Well, if that's what he wanted... Roman had to admit he was a little excited. Peter knew he had a thrill about getting him off around other people, even if that thrill was a little weird, and was willing to give in. The throw thing, though, that was new. He'd never really thought about it but it was kind of hot.

 

 

 

He headed inside feeling a little hot under the collar, but the coldness he felt walking into a house that hadn't had the heat on in months helped to make him forget about all the things he planned to do upstairs. Cassidy and Lana were sitting on the couch a bit awkwardly, probably waiting for him to come in and explain shit to them. He flipped on the light switch, noting that there was still power and realized that even though he wasn't there the bill was probably still being withdrawn directly. For a moment it didn't make sense to him that it was so cold in the house but he remembered that the thing had been set to turn itself off after the front door was locked. That would explain the very mild burning smell that wafted from the vents, as what little dust had settled began to burn up. Peter entered moments later from the garage with a small plastic bag filled with what looked like clothes and a few toiletries.

 

“I'm using your shower,” he stated, heading upstairs without a second thought. He leaned over the railing, as though he'd just remembered something. “And get that box from underneath the guest bedroom bed that you forgot.”

 

 

Roman hadn't thought to look under the bed to take whatever Peter had hidden there when they'd left, but he had to imagine what ever he was keeping hidden under the bed probably wasn't too safe for work. He cleared his throat and turned back to the two of them, and Lana gave him a look so knowing that he didn't even want to look her in the eye. But no, Roman was not one to be embarrassed by such things. Instead he stared her down, ignoring the look she was giving him and instead giving her one that was almost challenging. What, she had something to say to him? In his own home, with his own mysterious guest bedroom bed box? Fuck that.

He gave them a brief rundown of the house, rules about not being too public, to ignore the room that had the broken keypad on it and to leave it alone, and to stay out of his room but that one was just preference. After the brief rundown he hightailed it to the guest bedroom to get whatever box had been left behind before Lana and Cassidy could get in there. It was some beat up old shoe box that he didn't bother to investigate at the moment. He didn't even know if he should but he had to admit the curiosity was a bit much. He made his way quickly to the bedroom with the thing tucked close to his chest and into his own bedroom.

 

The sheets and comforter were still pulled back and messy from where they'd left so suddenly. The drawers were pulled open in some places, emptied of most of their contents because Roman did not bother to take everything he owned. Might be a good idea to restock, now. The throw was at the bottom of the bed where it usually was. Roman didn't use it much, it kind of just sat there. Everything was slightly dusty but there were worse problems in the motels they'd stayed in. He quickly made the bed to the best of his ability and then unfolded the throw and tossed it across the mattress so that it was more spread out. Yes, this was beyond arousing; a slightly dusty rarely used fur throw.

 

 

He sat down on the bed and kicked off his shoes, looking at the box he'd placed down upon it. Peter couldn't expect him to _not_ look. The shoe box was only home to something that separated it, it seemed. There were a few loose condoms on the bottom so he definitely had to assume it was exactly what he thought it was. There was some kind of velvet bag and a very small wooden box that seemed far too intricate looking to be in this box. Knowing he shouldn't be digging into his private shit, but also kind of not caring, he undid the tie on the bag and found, well...not the biggest cache of sex toys but there were definitely sex toys in there. Two pretty cheap looking bullet vibes, batteries and a small bottle of lube. He guessed he couldn't really afford any of the higher up shit or maybe he just didn't care.

 

 

He closed it up again and hesitated with the small wooden box, as it didn't look like something he should pry into. Roman was really bad about privacy, though. He flipped up the tiny clip holding it shut and watched as an accordion-like set of papers sprung out and spilled into the box. They were all folded up and on different stationeries from what he could tell, ranging from notebook paper to the fancy shit. He glanced to his doorway to make sure it hadn't opened and unfolded one of them. While it was clearly a letter, Roman had no idea what it was, because none of it was in English. He saw Peter's name a few times so he had to assume it was letters written to him. Whoever was writing to him was clearly someone who spoke Romani, assuming this is what this was. He managed to fold the paper up again and stuff it back into the box, quickly shutting the lid afterwards so they didn't spring out again.

 

Though as he were now, sitting here with the box still opened even though he was no longer looking through it, there was no denying what he _had_ been doing, and Peter was very aware of that when he entered.

 

“Are you serious? God, you're such a nosy asshole.”

 

“You did ask me to go get it...”

 

“Yeah, so other people wouldn't go through it. Should've known better not to trust your ass.”

 

“It's not like there's anything too incriminating in there.” He slid the top back on and set it aside, further away from him on the bed. “Honestly I'm kind of disappointed. Not one fleshlight?”

 

“I can't afford that shit. I couldn't afford that either. The boxes for those are way smaller than fleshlights. They're not really my thing, anyway. If I wanted to do anything with my dick I'd just use my hand.”

 

“So you use these?” A question he shouldn't have to ask, but he wanted to know. He seemed to be finding more spankbank material, if he needed to actually visit the spankbank with all the sex he'd been getting.

 

“What do you think I do with them, use them to mix drinks?”

 

“God , I hope not...I mean I figured you'd probably have standard fare shit but...vibrators is actually pretty hot.”

 

“You gonna jerk off to the letters from Lynda too?” Peter said with a light-hearted scoff.

 

“Oh yeah,” Roman responded sarcastically. “Seriously though...can I use this on you?”

 

 

Peter let out a noise that sounded like a combination of a groan and a sigh, all muffled between his somewhat pursed lips. He sauntered forward before he was upon him, shoving himself into his space and placing his knees on either side of his hips, half sitting on him and holding his shoulders for balance.

 

“Not right now...because you'll get nothing from it. But right now, you're wasting time.”

 

Roman found that Peter was putting a little too much trust in him to not let him fall, as he was perched so precariously on the edge, with how closely Roman already sat on it, that if he were to lean back he'd probably fall. In one fluid movement he leaned up to kiss him, then wrapped one arm around his back and gripped his ass with the other, abruptly flipping him over and onto his back on the bed. The position was a bit odd at first, and Roman had to push him up a little further to be able to climb onto the bed the rest of the way. He slotted one leg between Peter's thighs, one hand holding his arm slightly above his head as he entangled their fingers. The other lay on his hip, just along the waistband of his jeans which he wore too low, and where his shirt met so that his fingers were just barely touching skin.

 

“What do you mean I'll get nothing from it?” he asked, barely inches from him as he spoke. It was quiet and though it was merely a question it sounded almost seductive.

 

“I mean it won't last long...you can't fuck me with your dick if you use the vibrator because it'll be over before you can get it in.”

 

“I thought you were trying to hurry?”

 

“I am, and if you don't stop dicking around you won't be dicking _me_.”

 

“Alright, fine.” Roman said with mock defeat. He leaned down to kiss him once more though he didn't have to go far. It was slow and methodical, with one hand traveling up his ribs to push up his shirt, the other leaving Peter's fingers to entangle instead in his hair. Wet and knotted as it was, though it always seemed to be some degree of knotted. He grinded his knee upwards between his legs, and he felt the stiffness there and the way his lungs expanded, beneath his ribs, beneath his fingertips.

 

 

The softest of hitched breaths into Roman's mouth. He was quiet and reserved for now but he meant to change that. He moved the hand from his hair, replaced his knee with it and roughly palmed against the front of Peter's jeans. He undid them with great effort, finding it really hard to unbuckle a belt with one hand, but he yanked it off of him and tossed it aside to open his fly and delve his hand inside. He was hot in his hands, warmth seeping through the fabric like an oven. There was already a dull dampness near the upper half of his boxers, despite the fact that he wasn't even fully aroused, yet. He took pleasure in that fact, to feel him come to life beneath his grasp. Good God, Roman truly had never been so excited to have someones dick in his hand before Peter.

 

Despite the fact that he should have been used to it by now, it was strange to have such a stopping point. The absence of something weighted beneath were he touched, he found his fingers brushing too low as though he were getting a little too ballsy. When his fingers passed too low a third time, Peter let an annoyed groan into his mouth and pulled his head away.

 

“Can you not?” he said, half way out of the side of his mouth while Roman's face still remained a bit too close. He pulled away long enough to let him speak. He almost seemed to be blushing some, and of course Roman had to mention it.

 

 

“Shit, you're blushing like a school girl...” he chuckled. Peter was not amused, averted his gaze and mumbled out a retort.

 

“I'm not blushing I'm just...hot. Who cares if I was, though?”

 

“I don't know...It's cute,” Roman responded, taking his hand away from his crotch and brushing it along the side of his face, to swipe a small strand of hair that had fallen out of place. Peter jerked away slightly, brow furrowed and frowning in annoyance.

 

“Could you not have used the hand that wasn't just on my dick?”

 

“It was over the cloth.” Roman scoffed.

 

“Yeah, but still.”

 

Roman did not respond to this, he merely sat up further, between his legs and placed both hands along the bottom of his shirt. Slipping his thumbs beneath the fabric, barely touching skin, to pull it upwards in an attempt to pull it off. Peter obliged in helping him but he seemed somewhat self conscious at first. It was a brief flash on his face before he pushed it away and did the same to Roman, struggling to pull his shirt off from his position. He felt Peter's fingertips brush along his skin, specifically the place over his ribs. It became less of a ghosting, as he flattened his palm on his skin and ran it along the length of his torso. As it neared his hips, the other hand joined until Peter was undoing his belt and shoving his pants down.

 

 

Though he still wore underwear he felt now under-dressed in comparison to Peter and made short work of what he still had left to wear. It left him sitting between his thighs, half leaned over him and balancing himself with his arms. He had to admit something about being on a throw seemed...erotic. Erotic and maybe slightly ironic. Pale skin framed by black fur. Not unlike something he'd seen before, but in this case it was far less traumatic and violent. It was kind of hard to look at him as much as he wanted to, though. Not just because of time restraint but because if he allowed his eyes to wander too much he knew Peter would get weird about it. Though it was definitely clear at this point he was carrying some unholy amalgamation of upir and lycan in his mutated womb, the fact of the matter was that shirtless he was definitely showing. If he wouldn't let him touch him, he probably definitely didn't want him looking too hard either.

He would like to do more, maybe convince him to stay a bit longer but he knew he had places to be. He leaned over him to rifle through the drawer he knew he kept the lube at. Yes, he knew there was some in the box but he had no idea how old it was or when it had last been used, and he didn't feel like going through it. He slicked up his fingers with it, dipping them low between his legs and feeling a low jolt of electricity arrow down to his groin when Peter raised his hips for him. He always knew way more than Roman did, he was always ready in some way. He was buried up to the knuckle on one finger in a good few minutes, using this time to lean over him the best he could, unable to touch him much because one hand was between his legs and the other was using to brace himself. He shifted so that he was using the side of his arm rather than his hand, grabbing the side of Peter's face seconds later and kissing him.

 

Chasing his lips when he'd shift back to let out an elongated breath as Roman slipped a second finger in and used the both of them to grind against his prostate. Peter's hands were quite free, though, and he used one to lay across his neck, half in his hair and half on his skin as he gripped him and held him there. The other found its way to the center of his spine. He knew that Peter had said he wanted to hurry but Roman quite liked where they were now. Even if it made his wrist cramp. He wanted to bring him to the edge, at least, let him calm down for a minute and then give him what he truly wanted. He didn't get to see it much but he always loved the way he looked, desperate and somewhat irritated and the thought of it alone made his cock leak with arousal and he found himself unintentionally rutting against the bed.

 

 

Though he usually knew not to stop him he did know by this point when he was closer than not. He had confidence that he could pull away before he actually came so, again despite the way it hurt his wrist, he worked his fingers hard against his prostate until he had him writhing beneath him. Spreading his legs for him in such a wanton display that if he could actually see it he might need a serious change of underwear. Roman sucked welts into his neck now that Peter had abandoned trying to kiss him, feeling the low reverberations against his tongue and lips though Peter was still somewhat quiet. At most, it was heavy and hitching breaths that occasionally broke free as whimpering and pleasured sighs. His teeth scraped against his skin and in the back of his mind he could feel, and he could hear the pulse rush hard and fast in his veins. It was a remarkable show of restraint given that he was born to kill and drain him, he was sure. For Peter he had managed to silence this need enough so that he did not act.

 

 

Knowing he was nearly about to bring him to the edge, he pushed hard against his prostate and heard him take in a broken gasp, seconds before he pulled his hand away suddenly. He leaned up once more and left him panting beneath him. Flushed and somehow sporting some serious sex hair, he glared up at him.

 

“God, you're such a fucking asshole.” he said breathlessly.

“What?” Roman asked innocently. “Me? What did I do?”

 

“Fuck you, you did that shit on purpose.”

 

“I mean, I _thought_ you said you wanted to fuck me...” Roman quipped, leaning down with the intent to kiss him, letting one hand grace the side of his face again. He briefly let his thumb push against Peter's lower lip, and he did not take kindly to Roman's games. He surged forward and bit him lightly but enough to let him know he wasn't taking his shit. It didn't really hurt, but Roman did pull away with a startled noise that devolved into a shocked laugh.

 

“You little shit,” Roman said, leaning down to kiss him again but this time he grabbed whatever he could of Peter and flipped him onto his side. When he had him in his arms he reached down with the one that was not trapped beneath them and pushed his underwear down enough so that he could kick them off. He grabbed the lube he'd tossed aside and made quick work to try to get himself wet enough. It was, unfortunately, the only hand he could use to grab Peter with to maneuver him after he was done, and he let out a hiss of disgust at the feeling of something so damp and quickly sticky feeling grabbing his ass. He was quick to grab Peter's thigh as he slid down slightly further and hook it over his own hip. It was a position he hadn't tried many times before but he had an idea of how to make it work.

 

 

 

Reaching back to grip his cock once more he lined himself up with, hopefully, the right opening. It was a struggle, and though Peter was quite desperate it seemed it still slipped several times much to his annoyance. When he was able to get far enough in that he might not slip, Peter hooked his leg harder around Roman's hip and pulled himself forward to force him in. Laying his head near his chest, he could hear the slight hiss of pain that came with it much more strongly, but he had become so done with waiting he didn't care how much it hurt. He shifted the arm that was beneath Peter to his hair, craning up far enough to kiss him, while the other gripped his thigh again to keep it up though Peter seemed to have no trouble with that.

 

 

It was a closeness that was rare for them, in terms of sex. He wanted so badly to be close to him at the moment. He wanted to hold him and fuck him at the same time and this certainly seemed to work. But kissing clearly wasn't all that Peter wanted, although it had definitely been clear before. He didn't want to wait to adjust much longer and shifted his hips so that he fucked himself onto Roman's cock without him having to move as much. It wasn't as satisfying to either of them, though. When Roman did move, he broke free from the kiss and fastened his lips to Peter's neck to suck deep purple onto his skin once more. His hand migrated from his thigh to the place where his hips and ass met, using this to force him back down in time with his thrusts.

 

It was far rougher than he expected; Peter apparently wanted nothing slow and was content to rock his hips hard against him, using the friction to not only make Roman fuck him harder but to grind his cock against his stomach. He tried to give him what he wanted, grabbing onto him harder, digging his nails into his skin to mirror the way Peter did it to him. The scratches he left on Peter's body seemed to please him, as he would hiss out low moans and arch against him. He suddenly gripped Roman by the hair and forced him away from his neck so that he could kiss him roughly. Maybe using a few too many teeth, but he didn't mind.

 

“Is this how you want it?” Roman asked, his words intercepted with heavy breaths of both exertion and pleasure. It was a general question this time, he wasn't trying to talk dirty to him. “Do you like to be hurt?”

 

“Sometimes,” Peter replied. It was breathless, but almost amused. Roman tightened his grip on Peter's hair and pulled it back experimentally, then somewhat harder when he heard him let out a noise he could only describe as bliss. This bliss turned to sudden irritation though, and Peter gripped Roman's hips with his thigh to stop him from moving long enough to speak.

 

“This isn't working...” he mumbled. “I mean, not right now. It's not enough.”

 

“What is enough?” Roman asked, and he could feel desperation running from his crotch and straight up his stomach, really wanting to keep moving but stopping for Peter's sake. “You want me to fuck you harder? Is that it?” Peter merely nodded and, though Roman's initial plan was holding onto him this chance was good too. He pulled away momentarily, long enough to roughly manhandle Peter onto his stomach, or at least part of his stomach. His hips were still raised enough so that he wasn't putting too much pressure on his abdomen.

 

 

He hauled him up a bit higher, just enough so that he could get into him again, and sheathed himself with one quick and rough thrust. He listened to Peter let out a rough groan that devolved into something that was a mix between a laugh and a moan.

 

“That works...” he said, turning his head to the side so that he could speak as half if it was pressed against the mattress. “Now hold me down and fuck me like you mean it.”

 

 

Though he was a little worried about truly hurting Peter, he gave in. He kept one hand gripping his hip and pushed Peter against the bed with the other. He put his weight on him by bracing himself against his shoulder, digging his fingers into the skin and snapping his hips back and then forward once more, delighted at the choked out moan that it punched out of him. He'd been about mid point before, not entirely close but definitely not far either. Now, with what Peter was having him do, he wasn't sure how long he could last.

Peter was not helping, because each time he thrust into him the noises he made were sinful. Choked and wavering moans that carried on heavy breaths; the ones he could get out. He was breathing so heavily Roman was somewhat worried for a moment that he actually couldn't breathe. As much as it pained him to do so he attempted to shut him out. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on not coming yet, focused on his own breathing which was stuttered and heavy. But when it was nearly inevitable he was pulled from his stupor when Peter called his name in pleasure and annoyance because he'd apparently been calling out to him for a good minute.

 

“Roman, Jesus fuck, _please._ ” he moaned out.

 

“What?” he had to ask. “Please what?”

 

“Fucking bite me,” Peter commanded. “Nowhere deadly.”

 

 

Of course he was hesitant, but if only for a second. He let go of Peter's hips and leaned forward, still holding him down with one arm but using the other to brace on the bed so he didn't have his entire weight on him. He settled his hand on Peter's, so that their fingers became entangled as Roman sunk his teeth into his shoulder. It was harder than he meant to and he bled instantly, gushing into his mouth like hot copper. Peter did not moan, or cry out in pain, he growled at him. He knew in some way he enjoyed this but it was so animalistic and primal, even though he heard it purely in Peter's own voice and no hint of the wolf within.

 

 

With his teeth still in his skin and blood rushing into his mouth and subsequently down his throat, he knew now he was far too close to hold out much longer. It was a mere seconds before he was spilling into him, a groan of pleasure muffled by bruised and bleeding flesh pushing from his lungs. He didn't stop for as long as he could, even as each thrust drained him dryer and sent tremors down his thighs. In a last attempt to make him come, Roman reached beneath them and found Peter's cock quite easily, and it seemed he was closer than he'd anticipated. He barely had to touch him before he was spilling into his hand. The contraction around his now softening cock still managed to allow some low and abated moan against his skin, and by this point he pulled away and listened to the unsettling popping, tearing noise that came with his teeth exiting the fresh wound.

 

 

Disgusting as it was, as he pulled away, he wiped his hand on the now discarded underwear he'd been wearing as it would be far easier to clean those than it would be trying to get jizz off of fur.

 

“I need to take another fucking shower...” Peter said as he brought himself into a sitting position. He swiped his hand along the heavily bleeding bite mark on his back and winced slightly.

 

“Jesus Christ, that was stupid.”

 

“I didn't mean to bite that hard..” Roman said sheepishly.

 

“It's fine...I should've remembered you had the bite strength of a shark.”

 

“You gonna ask me to back hand you in the face next time we have sex?” Roman asked. Peter laughed at him, though it was a bit more of an undignified snort than a laugh.

 

“Shut up...Come on. If we don't get a shower we're going to walk in there smelling like sex.”

 

“I mean, I think it's pretty obvious...” Roman replied, getting off the bed after Peter to pull on his pants. “Although it might look more like I've been beating you...”

 

“Fuck...” Peter said, running his hand over his neck to the place that was still slightly tender. “Why do you do this shit? You can't just give me love bites? You gotta full on suck my skin off?”

 

“You really want me biting you neck?”

 

“Fuck no...” Peter mumbled, pulling on his own clothes though he'd just take them off minutes later. If only they'd been alone. God, there was no way that they didn't hear that...

 

 

Roman was grateful that Lana and Cassidy were currently not around at the moment to see them slink off to the bathroom. The two of them climbed into the shower and though it wasn't exactly small, the two of them were still close. It didn't take long for Roman to clean up but Peter had the problem of the bite wound on his shoulder. It took him a bit longer, and it left Roman alone with his thoughts (and his eyes) with nothing else to do. He pulled him close under the spray, feeling the need to hold him tight. The memories of his dream and their eventual reality had never truly left him. He leaned his head against his neck, kissed the place close to where the wound was as he ran his fingers over the rough and slowly clotting edges. How history had a way of repeating itself, except this time Peter had asked for this.

 

“I love you...” he mumbled against his skin. He could feel Peter's hands come to encircle his back. They unintentionally traced the dull welts he'd left there earlier, as he leaned his head against Roman's opposite shoulder.

 

“I know...I love you too.”

 

He could feel his eyes sting slightly with tears he hadn't expected. He let his face rest against the crook of Peter's shoulder, where he kissed him lightly and buried his sorrows in silence. He breathed in, sniffling slightly and hoping Peter didn't catch it, before straightening out once more and quickly climbing out of the shower. He briefly caught Peter's gaze, which was one of light concern but only for a moment before it seemed he, too, put the event out of his mind. There was no time for this. They were already late.

 


	20. The Pain of Separation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A LOT OF DIALOGUE

Getting out of there without being seen was definitely not a possibility. After they'd gathered up some additional clothes, the box, and the throw that Roman promised to take with them, Roman ran into Lana again while he was heading out to the van. Peter had already been waiting for him luckily enough and didn't have to deal with the embarrassment of getting caught.

 

“You guys must be a nightmare in hotels,” Lana said with a smirk. But instead of letting it embarrass him, he simply shot her a brief wink and headed out towards the garage.

 

“Try not to keep the lights on at night too much.”

 

Back at the van he tossed the final bag of clothes into the back and climbed in the drivers seat. Peter seemed vaguely annoyed by something, or at least a little on edge. He was slumped against the back of the seat letting one arm drape over his middle as he looked out, at the moment, at nothing but concrete. His other hand was settled against his face, where he seemed to find biting at the top knuckle of his hand was better than biting his nails. The nervous twitch of his legs did not go unnoticed either. He caught him looking and raised a brow.

 

“You want a picture or something?” he asked, his tone a little annoyed and that did not escape Roman in the least bit.

 

“I don't think I need to immortalize you looking like a crack addict in my car. Why are you so nervous?”

 

“I'm not nervous...” He was silent for a moment until he finally confessed. “I just don't like being back here. Shit's bad everywhere else but it's always bad here, too...Who knows when your psychopath mother is going to come skulking back here.”

 

“If I get a whiff of her sniffing around I'll get you out of here. No matter what I have to do. Okay?”

 

“Yeah...” Peter mumbled. “Alright...”

 

 

Roman had started the car and pulled out of the garage, and half way from the house Peter finally spoke again.

 

“I'm sorry...” he said, though the way he said it made it sound like he was embarrassed to say it.

 

“For what?”

 

“Relying on you for shit again...I've said it before but it doesn't make me feel any less shitty.”

 

“It won't be like this forever...”

 

“Are you trying to reassure me or yourself?”

 

“I don't know it's...just a general statement.”

 

 

 

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, with Peter silently sulking to himself in the passenger seat. It's not that he was trying to, but he really did feel bad and stupid about being dependent on Roman. He hated that Roman had to tell him he'd get him out of there. He could've done it himself if all this dumb shit wasn't happening. That _was_ partially Roman's fault though.

They were now bonded together no matter what.

 

Roman pulled into the back again, just like the day he had when they'd first come here to find out their whole life was about to be turned upside down. To find that something they thought was potentially deadly, then not serious, to incredibly serious...he just hoped today didn't have that kind of effect. He shot a quick text, sat there in silence for a few moments before there was a reply, then climbed out of the drivers seat and made a vague motion for Peter to follow him.

 

 

Even though he knew that walking into this place was supposedly his safe haven, Peter still felt nervous. To walk into this massive, sprawling facility that was more high tech and complicated than anything he dealt with before. He was out of place here and he knew the kind of things that happened in these walls. Experiments far beyond the realm of morals... Not to mention, again, the last time he came through these doors he was hemorrhaging and on a stretcher. Pryce met them at the door, to which he nodded at the both of them before leading them down the hall. It was silent, no one in sight. Roman thought it safe to speak to Pryce as they walked.

 

“You want to tell me what's going on with my mother?”

 

“In due time, Roman...but first, what have you done to your neck?” he asked, gesturing towards the impromptu stitches. Roman opened his mouth to speak but Pryce stopped him. “No matter what you've done to it, those must come out at once...You may have an immune system far superior to that of a human but nothing good could come from leaving that in for so long.”

 

“So then tell me while you get them out,” Roman said impatiently.

 

“Yes...” Pryce said, his words slow and stalled. “That would be the the most logical course of action, wouldn't it?”

 

They entered the elevator and headed down, and the ride was silent and awkward. Thankfully, Pryce wasn't all over him just yet. The anticipation had to be killing him. He was a walking scientific anomaly. For the time being he seemed to have set his sights on what, to him, must have been a gross misconduct of a medical procedure. He led the two of them to an exam room with a few extra chairs in it. Pryce motioned for Roman to sit on the bed, and for Peter to sit in one of the chairs, citing he probably shouldn't be on his feet too much.

 

He headed over to one of the cabinets, pulling on a pair of gloves and taking out a pair of strangely shaped scissors, along with gauze and antiseptic. He placed them all on a metal tray lined with some sort of paper, on a tall rolling table, and made his way to Roman's side. He dabbed the gauze with antiseptic and lightly pressed on the side of his head to get him to move, swabbing at the area in preparation as he began to speak.

 

“Your mother knows about Nadia...though I wouldn't worry about that too much. The child is dead to her now, now that she can't reproduce. So she's set her sights on you once again, hoping for an heir.”

 

“Where is Nadia?”

 

“She's safe...I'll bring you to her if you'd like once we're done here.”

 

“Please...” Roman said, though it almost seemed to pain him to say it. He was still annoyed by the whole thing.

 

“After Nadia was returned safe, her only option was to find you and try to win you over. The woman is...quite frankly, delusional if she thinks you'll forgive her for what she's done. However, I don't think it's delusion, rather desperation. With you on her side she may have a chance at another pure blood heir. She has, of course, denounced any relation to the child you currently have on the way. She sees it as a threat if anything.” Pryce paused for a moment as he took up the scissors, cutting away individual pieces where the sutures had been tied.

 

“Do you want to get to the part as to why she's missing?” Roman asked impatiently.

 

“She's looking for you. She's hired a private investigator to help find her wayward son... Fed him some lies about you, I'm sure. If she ever truly catches up with you, you'll likely be safe, but Peter...I cannot say the same for him.”

 

“Great...We get The Order off our tail and now I have to deal with my mother. If I even have a hint of that ...that cunt,” Roman said, stalling to think of a good word and hissing slightly when Pryce started to pull the fishing line from his skin. He could feel his skin tear, as it had apparently begun to fuse to the line. “I'll kill her. I won't hesitate. She won't come back a second time. I should've had your fucking head for bringing her back.”

 

“If you had killed me, where would we be now?”

 

“Not fucking running from some psychotic murderous cunt, and also the ex- Order member who can't leave shit alone.”

 

“No, but you'd be starving and snatching up transients left and right to satiate yourself.”

 

Roman was forced to grumble an agreement as much as he hated it. Pryce had finally finished removing all the fishing line from his skin, leaving shallow holes in their wake that dripped blood slowly. Pryce swiped another antiseptic gauze square along his neck and held it there until the bleeding slowed even further.

 

“What did you say this was from?”

 

“It's a bite wound...” Roman mumbled.

 

“It's been absolutely decimated...”

 

“Give it to me straight, Doc...are my years of winning beauty pageants over?” Roman asked, prompting Peter to let out a barely constrained laugh. Pryce did not dignify this with a response.

 

“Have you had any trouble swallowing?” Pryce asked, to which Roman responded with a very exasperated 'No'. Pryce, in turn, sighed in resignation with the knowledge most likely that he would probably get nothing out of Roman. Instead of pressing him for answers he turned to Peter, who immediately felt his blood start to run cold knowing he was now in his sighs. Pryce wasn't dangerous, just annoying, but he still liked to stay out of his gaze.

 

“I do apologize, where are my manners? How are you feeling? Any blurred vision, unusual swelling, excessive fatigue?”

 

“Isn't fatigue normal?” Peter asked, his tone flat and laced with small traces of annoyance. Like Pryce should know these things, but it was probably Peter who was in the dark.

 

“I'm sure you're not feeling up to a full exam at the moment, but do you mind if I take your blood pressure?”

 

Peter gave a shrug, then nodded for clarification and shrugged the jacket he was wearing off one side. He wheeled over a small machine that had been sitting in the corner of the room and placed the cuff on his upper arm. Peter wasn't used to blood pressure testing but he knew how to do them and what was done. He didn't know if he'd ever actually had one, and if he had the last time. It was incredibly uncomfortable and he counted down the seconds until it stopped squeezing him in a vice. Pryce announced a set of numbers Peter had no specific knowledge to; if it was good, or bad, or in between, but luckily he explained it for him.

 

“Your blood pressure's good. Preeclampsia is a concern especially with so little prenatal care. It's a condition that usually occurs later but given how unpredictable your fetal growth is we can't be too careful.”

 

“What would you have done if I did have it?”

 

“Highly recommend hospitalization. Thankfully, you don't seem to have it given the fact that I know neither of you plan to stay here longer than a few days.”

 

Pryce was right, staying here for the rest of this ordeal would be very problematic, as well as dangerous. He left him momentarily to put the small piece of annoying machinery back where it came from, then came to a stop in the center of the room to speak to them both.

 

“I have an ultimatum for the both of you... I can take you to see Nadia now, Roman, but ...Peter, your cousin is a bit of a handful. I believe she may be stir crazy and would do well with seeing you again but if you'd like to join Roman I can show you to her room later.” Roman turned to him at this, a questioning look which spoke many words in silence. He was asking for Peter's opinion.

“Go see your daughter. You deserve this moment alone. I don't want to get in the way.”

 

“Peter...” Roman mumbled.

 

“It's fine. Seriously. Go.”

 

“He won't exactly be alone but if that's what you wish. Follow me, I'll show you to Destiny's room first.”

 

It was a bit of a short walk, down the hall, through a few more doors and they were lead to many empty rooms. Peter had to assume at one point these rooms did hold people; they appeared to be hospital rooms and he had to assume that's where he was keeping all these unintentional guests. It's not the White Tower was a four star resort. He pushed past the door, announcing himself as he did.

 

“You have a visitor,” he said, gesturing for Peter to follow. Roman gave him a final glance, almost like he was afraid he wouldn't see him again. He really hoped that's not how it went. He gave him a gesture like a half assed wave, not sure exactly what to do in this situation. Pryce stepped back as he stepped forward. Destiny was sitting on the bed, momentarily glancing down at her phone before she saw him. Her fist reaction appeared to be shock, then happiness. She let out a noise between a shout and a giggle and rushed off the bed to greet him. Destiny sometimes had the habit of being kind of handsy, though. She pulled him into a tight hug that made all the air rush out of his lungs before pulling back. Placing her hands on his shoulders she looked him over.

 

“What the hell are you doing back here?” she asked. The words themselves, had they not been said with such elation, could have sounded angry.

 

“It's a really long story...” he said, and she let go of him and gestured towards the pair of chairs in the corner.

 

“Well, sit down!” So many people were telling him to stop standing today. She waved her hand about the room as Peter took his seat and she came to join him. “So, this is the new place. It's...white,” she joked, before joining him. “I'm going crazy in here, Peter. All I do is sit in this room all day.”

 

“I don't envy you,” Peter chuckled. “Well...maybe I do. I'm surprised you're still here.”

 

“That mad scientist motherfucker won't let me leave. He acts like I have the choice but then reminds me how _dangerous_ it could be, and how much you need me...Yet he's content to let Andreas sit at home without me and only let us have supervised visits.”

 

“I wouldn't let Andreas in here either...I think it's because Roman might literally kill him if something bad happens to you, even though it probably won't.”

 

“What about Roman?” she asked, her demeanor suddenly serious. “He's not hurting you, is he?”

 

“What? No. Why would you ask that?”

 

“You kinda look like you've been strangled...” Destiny said, gesturing to his neck. His jacket was covering most of it, so he pushed it down and then pulled his shirt aside. “This is not from strangling.”

 

“Oh... _oh!_ Well the two of you must be getting along _very_ well, then.”

 

“C'mon, Dee, don't make it weird,” he said, pulling his jacket back up.

 

“I'm serious though, Peter...I worry about you. I know what kind of temper he can have. I've seen the shit upirs do.”

 

“Roman has never laid a hand on me...unless I asked for it. I mean that in the literal sense. I've done more damage to him than he ever has to me.”

 

“Really? What did you do to him?”

 

 

Peter looked at the floor, avoiding her gaze just like he was avoiding that question. It was something he didn't want to bring up in the first place.

 

“It's pretty bad...I still feel like shit every time I think about it.”

 

“What'd you do, punch him for being a dick? It can't be that bad.”

 

“I almost killed him,” Peter said, voice raising more than he meant. “I mean, if he'd been human he'd be dead. That's the truth. He's been giving me blood...or whatever that shit is he drinks. Not because he's being a dick but because I need it. But every time he does it, I lose myself. I just fucking black out. He tied me to the bed and I _still_ got to him. Apparently I try to attack him every time... When I came to there was blood everywhere because apparently I ripped his throat out. With my teeth.”

 

Destiny frowned, laying a hand on his knee gently as a sign of reassurance. “Peter, you don't blame yourself for that, do you?”

“Yes, I do blame myself for it. Even if it was an accident, he does so much for me and I scar him for life probably. I don't think I'll ever not feel like shit that it happened.”

 

“You really care about him, don't you?”

 

“Yeah, I do. Kinda wish you'd stop trying to push me away from him.”

 

“I'm not Peter, I just...Your my baby cousin. I don't want anything to happen to you. The Godfreys and upirs are bad news, you know that.”

 

“I'm stuck in it now, anyway. I can't go back.”

 

“You're right...It's just weird to see. On the rare occasion Vince and I actually talked he'd tell me how weird that family was, and I know Lynda tried to keep shit business only. But here you are shacked up with one of them now. It's hard for me to accept. I admit that. I mean, Letha was different. She wasn't from that..weird part of the family.”

 

“Do you really think Roman is that bad of a guy?”

 

“He's not, Peter. I really do think he cares about you. He called me the night you turned begging for help.”

 

“He's in love with me...” Peter said quietly.

 

“I'm not surprised. Do you feel the same?”

 

Peter wasn't sure how to respond to that. He'd actually told no one but Roman how he felt. To say it out loud to someone else he was filled with doubt. It was probably just his mind giving him shit, though. Especially when he was saying it to Destiny.

 

“I think so... I mean I can't tell what's going on in my head half the time, but yes.” He put his face in his hands for a moment, pushing back his hair that fell back into his face seconds later. “I don't know...Sometimes I worry I'll wake up when all the hormones are gone and I'll think I made a mistake. But I can't raise a kid on my own, and I can't take it away from him so even if I don't I'd better just get used to it. But I spent so much time telling myself it was all just hormones. I fought with myself constantly and it was exhausting. I was high as shit when I told him but it felt freeing, like I didn't have to fight anymore.”

 

“Are you seriously smoking weed still?!”

 

“No! I mean...it was once. It was just that once. I'm trying to be good, Dee, I really am. But I felt like shit and nothing else was helping.”

 

Destiny punched him lightly in the shoulder in irritation, and Peter winced at the contact but it didn't hurt all that much.

 

“What the fuck?” Peter grumbled.

 

“You've got a baby in there that you gotta look after and you're already fucking up.”

 

“I'm spending half my life in a van and on roadside motels for this thing! It's like I'm running from the fucking law. I'm stressed as shit 24-7 and I need _something_ to take the edge off or I might kill someone. Can't even go into fucking Wal-Mart and get something that actually fits me because there's goddamn flying reptoids all over the place and I'm being hunted like a dog by everyone else.”

 

“Do you need some clothes?” Destiny asked, shame in her voice, pushing away the topic of smoking knowing she'd been selfish in a way.

 

“Yes. Desperately. I don't know how much longer these are going to last.”

 

“I'll tell Andreas to pick something up at the thrift store or something, okay?”

 

“You don't have to do that...” he sighed, feeling guilty now.

 

“No, I do. You're right, your life is shit right now..no offense. If you're going to be uncomfortable at least don't be constricting yourself with tight clothes. I'm surprised, you still look tiny. I can't tell a thing.”

 

“It's my pants that are a problem...I have to wear them really low or they're too tight.”

 

“Okay, got it. You need pants,” Destiny said, pulling her phone out and speaking as she texted. “I'll tell him to pick some up, a couple of shirts, maybe a belt in case it's too big.”

 

“I don't want him going broke trying to buy me shit at the store. Does he even know what's happening?”

 

“No, figured that's a conversation best left unsaid. He just knows you had to get out of town and got into some trouble.”

 

“Thank God...No offense but sometimes he's too much.”

Destiny laughed but it sounded like a bit of a nervous laugh. Nervous and knowing, perhaps. Andreas was...well, as much as Peter hated to say it, he was kind of trouble. Maybe Destiny knew that too. Their whole family was technically trouble, though. One extra ounce of trouble might not be an awful thing as long as whatever bullshit schemes he was running didn't get Destiny hurt.

 

“What are you going to tell him about the clothes? I don't know if he should know I'm here...”

 

“I'll tell him I'm bored as shit and want to try sewing them into something else. It's not that far off, there's nothing else to do here so I've taken it up. Don't worry,” the last part was said reassuring, but her expression changed once again. It was both nervous and hopeful. He wasn't sure why until she spoke. “Peter...I have to ask you a weird favor.”

 

“Even weirder than telling me to drown you?”

 

“Well if you'd done what I told your stubborn ass to do in the first place we wouldn't have done that.”

 

“So it's that weird?”

 

“No, it's not that weird. It's probably pretty fucking normal, actually. Since you're outgrowing all your pants, that probably means you're showing, right?”

 

“Yes...” Peter mumbled, already not liking where this was going.

 

“Can you show me, and let me take a picture?”

 

“Do you really have to do that?” he groaned. “I seriously hate that shit.”

 

“It's for Lynda,” she said in desperation. “And, you know, maybe me but it's _mostly_ for Lynda. C'mon, Peter, do it for your mom.”

 

“She...she knows?” he asked, suddenly feeling a rush of emotions build up in his chest. It was both fear, sadness, but also a fond yearning of sorts. He wanted to tell his mother, he really did. He never had the chance to. She was in another country, he was too busy and on the lamb himself to send letters. “Did you tell her?”

 

“She wasn't buying all my fake reasons as to why her son had stopped writing her. She didn't believe the truth at first, either. Even though you're apart this is still her first grandbaby. I'm sure she'd like it.”

 

“What did she say...?”

 

“Well...at first, she told me to stop bullshitting her but once I convinced her, she was worried about the repercussions...You know what this means for you, don't you Peter?”

 

“What do you think it means for me?” Peter asked, swallowing heavily.

 

“You know that Roman's a _gadje_ , and you know what that means to our people.”

 

“I know...” Peter sighed. “But I already made that choice. I made it with Letha. I'll make it again. So what does it mean to you?”

 

“You're still my family, and nothing will ever change that. Lynda's the same. She'd already accepted this when you started dating Letha. But this is...this is next level, Peter. It's not just the Roma, but other werewolves too. You're with the enemy. You're also a pregnant _boy_ so that's...well, that's a big thing.”

 

“You'd be surprised. I've been staying with a whole...pack of them. They're leery of Roman but they accept me. And besides, no one has to know where the kid came from once it gets here.”

 

“Just know that it complicates things, Peter, and that's what Lynda worries about. _But,”_ she said, ending with a sigh. “Other than worrying she's over the moon. She's going to be a grandma. Not in the way she ever thought she would but she's still going to be a grandma. She hopes one day, after shit settles down and people forget about her, she can come visit. Or you can visit her, who knows. So this brings me back to my point. Can you do me this favor?”

 

“Alright, but make it quick and don't make it weird,” Peter said, standing and shrugging his jacket off again onto the chair. Destiny stood next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing so that he would turn to the side. When she'd readied her phone he sighed and pulled his shirt up to his ribs. He avoided her gaze until she tapped him on the arm and put her phone away, signaling she'd successfully taken the picture. He pulled his shirt down quickly and then put his jacket back on.

 

“Oh, wow, I did not think about your neck...” Destiny said, looking at her phone again.

 

“Jesus Christ...Well it's not like she doesn't know how babies are made.”

 

“Usually not like this,” Destiny said with a smirk. “She'll probably think it's funny.”

 

They sat in silence for a moment, Peter staring off into space and letting his mind briefly drift into nothingness as Destiny seemed to be preoccupied with her phone. It felt nice to space out for once. He did a lot of spacing out lately... He jumped slightly when Destiny spoke to him again.

 

“When I talked to Roman he said you wanted me to do the delivery...Are you sure that's what you want?”

 

“You're the only one I trust. Besides, Pryce is too close to Olivia. But I don't know if the plan we had is still good considering she's looking for us now.”

 

“Shit...Roman can't do it, can he?”

 

“Do you really trust him to be able to do that? Because I don't. I don't want him to unless it's an emergency and there's no other choice. I'll figure something out.”

 

“Like I told him, I'll try but I have zero experience with delivering kids from guys.”

 

“Maybe...maybe Pryce can help you out.”

 

“How? If you don't want him doing it-,”

 

“I know that motherfucker's going to want to examine me. If you're there, maybe you can get a sense of what will happen. But it's not that hard to figure out on its own...”

 

“If that's what you want. Gee, this isn't how I expected my life to go. Sitting in some giant mad science lab while a strangely effeminate speaking scientist gives my baby cousin a gyno exam.”

 

Peter couldn't help but laugh at this. Oh, how he missed her...

 

 

 

Meanwhile, several rooms down from where Peter sat discussing plans with Destiny, Pryce was leading Roman elsewhere.

 

“What did you mean when I said I wouldn't be alone?”

 

“Well...Shelley's taken a shine to her niece. The man she was seeing disappeared shortly before we found her and it broke her heart. Nadia's the one thing that's made her happy. She's been tending to her. If you'd like time alone with her I could ask her to leave-”

 

“No.” Roman interrupted. “No, I want to see my sister, too. Does she know?”

 

“She does...I'm not entirely sure how she figured it out but she informed me one day that she was aware of it. She's asked me questions since then but I've given her no incriminating answers.”

 

Pryce gestured towards one of the doors though he did not near it. He appeared to be in a hurry.

 

“She's through there. Now if you'll excuse me, there have been some strange changes with one of the specimens we captured at Spivak's lab which I've been rather busy with. There's something I'd like your help with later on the matter, if you would.”

 

“Yeah...sure, as long as you're not trying to feed me to it.”

 

“No worries,” Pryce said with a smile. When he smiled Roman always found it incredibly disingenuous and unnerving. He decided not to say much else on the matter and headed into the room. As he entered he was forced to stop in the doorway, overcome with emotion at the sight he saw before him. Nadia was on the bed, facing the doorway, while Shelley sat in front of her with her legs beneath her. He was honestly surprised Shelley could even sit like that given the state of her limbs.

 

She seemed to be playing peek-a-boo with her and Nadia seemed sufficiently amused. It warmed his heart to see how she was with his sister. After so many years of watching children ,adolescents and adults shun her for her appearance, Nadia could care less. True, she was still very young but he had a feeling she would not grow up to fear her in anyway. It didn't take long for Nadia to notice him when he entered. She looked away from Shelley and reached her hands out, gurgling and smiling. God, he had missed her. He had missed them both. He wouldn't lie and say he didn't shed a tear or two. Quickly he wiped them away before Shelley turned to see who had come in. Her face lit up, in the metaphorical since rather than the literal. Her glow had never truly returned after she'd been back.

 

“Roman!” she shouted, or as much as she could shout. Her voice was still level volume but was filled with excitement. Sometimes Roman still was floored inside when he heard her speak. She turned on the bed, slid off as gracefully as she could and headed over to him. He met her in the middle and met her with open arms, and she hugged him so tightly that she lifted him like the time he'd come back from the coma. He could only laugh in elation, and partially because all the breath was being squeezed out of him. When she put him down she looked down at him with a smile.

 

“Where have you been?”

 

“I've, uh...I got in some trouble, Shelley.”

 

“Are you okay?” she asked, the tone similar to the last. Though Shelley had her voice, it very rarely showed emotion. It was still weak at times, hoarse and stuttered but to Roman it was beautiful and he would listen to it every day if he could.

 

“I'm okay,” he said, but he knew it was a lie. He knew it by the way she eyed the scar on his neck. Roman watched as she backed up to the bed and Roman took his place beside her. Nadia reached for him as he sat and he picked her up gratefully, settling her on his lap and against his chest. She was heavier than he remembered. “Jesus, you've gotten so big without me,” he said to her. His voice wavered as he held back tears, not wanting to cry in front of Shelley though he'd certainly done it before.

 

“Why didn't you tell me you had a daughter?” Shelley asked.

 

“Olivia. I didn't want her to know. I had to keep her a secret.” Olivia of course knew that Roman had a daughter, just not where he was keeping her or that he actually had her for a good while. Still, he refused to give her any information about her grandchild.

 

“Where is her mother?”

 

Roman felt his heart drop a bit, he averted his gaze from her and swallowed.

“She, uh...she died. That's why I got custody of her.”

 

“Who was she?”

 

“That's a story for another time, Shelley. Maybe later.”

 

“Uncle Johann wouldn't tell me either. Keeps avoiding all my questions.”

 

“I'm sorry...I promise, one day I'll tell you.”

 

“I'd make it a pinky promise but I don't think I would have a pinky left.” She said this with a slight laugh. It was a low and stuttered chuckle at the end of his sentence, and though what she said was sadly true Roman still smiled. He smiled with amusement and sadness.

 

“God, I missed you...” Roman said with a disheartened laugh. He looked down to Nadia, who was grasping at his finger and chewing on it. “And you.”

 

“Are you staying this time?” she asked. There was hope in her voice, what hope she could display.

 

“No...But I'll come back one day. If I don't, I'll come get you. We can get a nice house in the country, just you and me and...” he stalled, not sure if he should tell her everything just yet. “I'll even get you a pony.”

 

“I don't need those kinds of things, Roman. I just want you.” she smiled, but it was a sad smile.

 

“What, you'd say no to a pony? Didn't you used to want one?”

 

“Used to...maybe.”

 

“I'll just get myself a pony then,” he quipped. Shelley smiled at him and let out a soft laugh. Then she frowned slightly, looking down at him. Her gaze was always so much more intense even though it was fleeting. He supposed if he had one massive eye it might be more intense for him as well.

 

“Can you at least tell me where you've been? Why you have to leave? I won't tell mom.”

 

“She's the reason I'm gone in the first place. I know you want to like her, Shelley, but she's evil incarnate.”

 

“She's not so bad. She bought me a dress...”

 

“But you don't like dresses.”

 

“It's the thought that counts. And she fixed my fingers,” she said, holding up her hands. Indeed, they were no longer wrapped so tightly around her fingers. They were individual, mobile. Olivia had been with her for years and had only now thought to do this? Roman had doubts. “Maybe you're right, Roman. She's not a good mother, but she is our mother. I think she's hiding something about Uncle Norman...”

 

Roman, of course, new the truth of what had happened to his late birth father. He wanted to tell her, and he almost did but stopped himself at the last moment. Shelley was already fragile. Roman knew she'd been on anti psychotics after Priscilla was killed. He knew her fate too, but he was sure no one had told Shelley. Now, she'd had her heart broken by her first love, crush, whatever. She didn't need the knowledge that her uncle was dead. He opened his mouth again to speak, not sure how to broach the subject of Norman but decided to drop it all together.

 

“I've been with Peter. Olivia's pissed. She wants him dead. We've been traveling to keep her off our tail. For right now this is the safest place but she'll be back, and we have to be gone by then. You understand, right?”

 

“I understand that...but not why she wants Peter dead.”

 

“That's...kind of a hard subject to explain.”

 

“Roman...Please. If you won't tell me Nadia's mother, tell me why you have to leave.”

 

Roman bit his lip, avoiding her gaze and trying to find the best way to talk to her about this. He would have to explain _a lot_. The existence of monsters and sex. Though she knew about monsters, she'd killed Christina. He was sure she knew how babies were made, too.

 

“Do you remember how everyone kept saying Peter was a werewolf back in school?”

 

“Yes. But it was Christina...”

 

“It was Christina killing people, but they weren't wrong about Peter being a werewolf.”

 

“Is that why she's angry?”

 

“She's angry because she can't have anything less than _perfect_ in this family line. Peter isn't just a werewolf but a gypsy, and he's not like is. She can't stand that. She couldn't stand it when he was around during school.” Roman's tone grew more irritated, slightly louder as he was letting free just a few of the things he hated about his mother towards the one person she consistently bullied. How he wanted so much to tell her to stay away from Olivia again, to tell her she didn't give a shit about her, but he knew that he would leave again and he would leave in a bad mood. He was sure he'd see Shelley again before he left but he struggled to keep down the darkness and rage that was his hatred for their mother so that it didn't dampen the days they had left with a cloud of malice. Instead, he was forced to let out a muted sigh to calm himself, running a free hand over his face.

 

“But that's not why she's mad. She's mad that, despite all fucking odds, I somehow managed to get him pregnant one day, and she can't _stand_ that. She can't fucking fathom having something she thinks is impure mixed into the bloodline and she wants him taken out. She thinks if he's gone she can just convince me that she's been right all along and I can come home and give her another heir that isn't what she thinks is a half breed. She's fucking delusional and-,” he stopped himself. “She's bad news, Shelley. That's why I have to leave. It's too dangerous right now but once the baby's born I might be able to keep her away from it, and I don't have to worry about her taking out two people at once.”

 

“He's...pregnant?” Shelley asked, stalling as she spoke. “How?”

 

“It's a werewolf thing, apparently. Neither of us knew it but it happened. I'm...sure I don't have to explain that part,” he mumbled the last part, though it was known throughout his family and half the town that he got around a lot. He still didn't like talking to his sister about it, though. Innocent as she was even if she had, at one point, been dating someone. She still let out a small chuckle at this.

 

“So I'll be an aunt twice,” she said with a smile.

 

“Yes,” Roman responded. It was with a smile and a breathless laugh. “Do you like being an aunt?”

 

“I do.”

 

“Good. When all this blows over, you can visit whenever you want. We can try the court thing again; I know I skipped town before the case but she sent people after us and we had to get out of there... I can make this right for us. For Nadia, and Peter, and the baby...we don't have to run forever.” Roman realized at the end of his statement he was telling himself that as much as Shelley.

 

“I'll be okay, Roman. You don't have to rescue me. But I do want to be an aunt to the baby. Where is he?”

 

“He's with Destiny.”

 

“Can I see him before you leave again?”

 

“Yeah...I'll ask him but I think he'll be okay with it.”

 

Shelley smiled, averting her gaze and letting her eyes travel about the room as though she was searching for something to say. She let out a slight breath of a laugh, barely noticeable but he heard it. She didn't quite look at him as she spoke again.

 

“I'm glad you realized how much you like him.”

 

“I...” Roman started, unsure how to respond to that. “You're too smart for your own good sometimes. Guess you're just good at reading people.”

 

“When you spend most of your life with no one who wants to be your friend, sometimes it's important to know how to read people.”

 

“Shelley...” Roman started, finding it hard to find an answer to that statement. He new it was true, he knew the cruelty of the world. He knew most people would only see her for her seemingly monstrous exterior, not her beautiful soul.

 

“It's okay. I have you, Nadia, Uncle Johann...I had some friends when you were gone but after Aitor left they all went to different places.”

 

“Aitor? Is that the dude you were with? The fuck kind of name is Aitor?” Roman laughed. Shelley joined him in this laughter but there was sadness in it.

 

“I don't think that was really his name. It turns out there were a lot of things I didn't know about him...I think he was in trouble with the law.”

 

“I'm sorry I wasn't here for you...I could've beat his ass or something. No one hurts my sister.”

 

“No, Roman...You don't need to beat anyone up. After he left, it hurt for a long time, but I think I came out better than I was. I'm not afraid to be me anymore.”

 

 

At this point Roman noticed that Nadia was fitfully falling asleep in his arms. His movements and speaking would rouse her and she would fuss, trying to fall back into slumber. She was much quieter than she had been for the first several months of her life. He knew why she had screamed so many nights, though. Lack of contact, her only source of social interaction a haggard old couple, god rest their souls, who did the best they could but Roman knew it wasn't enough. They weren't her parents and he thought Nadia probably new that. He had been so out of it at that point. Starving constantly, emotionally distant from everyone, angry all of the time. He'd no love to give. The only thing he could do was lock her away and make her someone else's problem. He had reasons, he had...excuses. It still ate him up inside with guilt. She had changed, certainly. She was calmer, so to speak, and her eyes had lost their bright blue glow. Perhaps that was for the best as it was a very obvious identifier.

 

“I think she's tired,” Shelley said softly.

 

“Yeah...” Roman responded, the movement of his chest making her fuss again. “I think I should put her down, and come see the two of you later.”

 

Shelley nodded, and Roman hoisted her up in his arms more securely to carry her to the crib situated in the corner of the room. He set her down, and she stood at the edge of her crib momentarily, staring up at him like she once had with her eyes now a dull greyish blue hue. He leaned down to kiss her and then headed towards the door. It didn't take long for him to hear her fuss once again.

 

He looked back to see her still standing, a pout on her tiny fat features and what Roman knew was her leading up to a crying session. Reaching her pudgy hand out, pout growing more pronounced as she whined and then began to cry. It triggered a fight or flight sort of reaction in him and he gave Shelley a quick goodbye and left as soon as he could. He wasn't sure where he was going, he just knew he needed to get away from that room. When the door shut he heard her wails of protest and he could only walk faster. It wasn't that he thought her crying was annoying and he just didn't want to deal with it, it was in fact the opposite. He knew what she wanted was him to stay, but also to sleep. He knew that he would try to stay there for ages and try to calm her down if he tried. But the thing is, he did not want to hear her cry like that.

 

He knew she wanted her father once more and he would have to leave again. He imagined she'd have the same reaction when he left for good, not just to leave the room. That, he didn't want to think about. The guilt, the shame, the ache that he felt in him was heavy and settled somewhere deep in his chest. It weighed on his stomach and on his lungs. He had missed her so much and he was going to leave again. In her mind she probably hadn't realized what had happened while she was gone as she'd been with Miranda, but now with him back in her life, he thought she would miss him. Even if she didn't, even if it didn't make sense, it hurt him gravely.

 

 

In his haste to get away he managed to run into Peter, almost quite literally. He wasn't sure where he'd been going but he seemed to be exiting the room where Destiny stayed. Shell shocked by the sudden collision he took a moment to get his bearings before speaking to him.

 

“Roman...are you okay?” he asked, the statement of his name sounding confused, like a question without and true answers. But the next part was of genuine concern.

 

“I'm...I'm fine,” Roman responded in a panicked tone. “I'm great, everything's...fucking fantastic.” He was ashamed, very ashamed, but his voice broke on the final syllable and he broke down. He sobbed like a child and he wanted to crawl in a hole and die for how ridiculous he felt.

 

“What the hell happened?”

 

“Nothing happened...nothing bad, I just...fuck, I miss her Peter. I've missed so much and I'm just going to miss more. And it's probably fucking stupid but I feel like she _knows_ I'm leaving her, again. I already did this shit once, now I have to do it again.”

 

“Is that why you were running?”

 

“I wasn't running...” Roman scoffed tearfully. “She cried when I put her down and I freaked out...It would've been fine if I was staying but the little time I get with her and I make her cry.”

Peter suddenly moved in closer to him, pulling him into a hug which he eventually accepted, at first putting up some resistance but finding some comfort in him. It was awkward, because he had held Peter when he cried before. Peter had done the same to him a few times, but the difference was that he was usually sitting or laying. Standing, he could not cry against his chest and bury his face in sadness and shame. He was forced to lay his head on his shoulder, making 'a shoulder to cry on' quite literal.

 

“Babies cry, Roman...They cry for no reason sometimes.”

 

“I know...” Roman said hoarsely, muffled against Peter's shoulder. “She reached for me but instead I ran.”

 

“We'll be back for her before you know it...Who's taking care of her now?”

 

“Shelley,” Roman said, sniffling against his shirt as to make sure he didn't make it any grosser than it needed to be. He felt Peter's hand slide against his back, up his neck and threading his fingers through his hair.

 

“She'll take good care of her. She's got everything she needs here, Roman, and she's safe.”

 

“God, I know...I shouldn't be like this. I don't have to worry about where she is or what's happening to her, or if she's alive or not, but...”

 

“I know,” Peter said quietly. “You have time. Spend some of that time with her.”

 

“Come with me next time,” Roman said, backing away from Peter's shoulder for a moment to speak. He cleared his throat, feeling an excess of fluid sliding down into his lungs and making him choke slightly. He pulled away fully seconds later, running a hand over his eyes and sniffling once more. He was sure he looked a fucking mess. “Shelley wants to see you.”

 

“Does she know anything?”

 

“Yeah, I told her. Sorry. She just wanted to know why I kept having to leave. Fuck, if she wanted to she could probably get me to do anything she wanted. She really knows how to pull on my heartstrings.” He swiped a hand across his eyes once more, using the back of it to get rid of some of the excess that still remained and some that still spilled slightly. “What were you doing out here?”

 

“I was going to try to see if I could find someone who could tell me if there's anywhere I can find food...”

 

“There's a cafeteria in the building...Do you want to go?”

 

“Are you up for that?”

 

“I'm fine. I'm over it,” Roman said with a laugh, filled with sorrow just like the smile he put on.

 

“No you're not...”

 

“Okay, I'm not...But whatever. I don't want you to starve, let's go.”

 

“I'm not gonna starve,” Peter chuckled. For some reason it truly amused Roman. Warmed his heart and everything around it. Truly, Peter could do nothing at all and Roman would feel it so deep in his chest. Burning, warming his insides, melting the ice of bitter cold, guilt and general anxiety. Roman truly had to wonder why it took him so long to see it in the first place when apparently everyone else had; that he'd loved him for a very long time now and never truly knew it.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry y'all i've never written shelley before


	21. Mating Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: 
> 
> this chapter talks about monster genitalia 
> 
> and gynecological visits
> 
> if you're brave there's a link to a pic of the former (but it's nothing like regular genitals) because i feel the need to illustrate everything

Roman had more or less calmed down by the time they got to the cafeteria, though he seemed on edge the entire time about something else entirely. Peter had to imagine it was the fact that letting people see them was kind of not safe but he'd come to the conclusion that it was unavoidable. Still, he sat with Peter while he ate. It was always a little weird to eat with him considering he barely ate anything at all. This was one of those times; he merely waited for him and for a brief moment Peter wondered if family dinners between the four of them would ever be possible.

 

He was glad to find that awkwardness over when Pryce sent him a text after Peter had finished eating. He seemed perturbed by something, then rolled his eyes and sighed as he stood up from the table.

 

“I swear that motherfucker can't go five minutes without trying to rope one of us into an experiment.”

 

“What does he want?”

 

“Something to do with the monster he's got cooped up in the lab down there. You coming?”

 

“I don't know where else I would go...” he said, standing to join him and throwing away the remnants of the prior, somewhat awkward meal. Roman lead him deep into the bowels of the facility, down winding hallways that Peter had no clue how he remembered, into an elevator, down more hallways, and to what appeared to be an electrical closet. He pushed on a false door that swung open to lead to a set of stairs. Peter couldn't remember if he'd ever been down here or not. He thought maybe he had the night Nadia disappeared but everything from that time was hazy.

 

“Roman...you know this is a highly classified area, don't you?” Pryce asked as he met him at the foot of the stairs. As though what he said would shield Peter from the fact that he was chastising Roman for bringing him in there.

 

“A classified area in _my_ building, Pryce. I can bring some fucking hookers down here if I wanted to. Besides, you kind of never gave _either_ of us a place to stay yet,”

 

“Well it _is_ your building Roman, perhaps you should be choosing that?” Pryce responded with some bitterness. It did not escape Roman, who glared at him.

 

“What do you want from me?”

 

“Your simple cooperation. Though maybe I should thank you for bringing Peter down here, he might be valuable to this research as well.” Sensing Peter's hesitation, Pryce turned to him and put on a smile that seemed entirely false and didn't help his anxiety in the least bit. “Don't worry, I won't be doing any physical testing on you _or_ Roman, all I require is your presence. Come,” Pryce said, turning to walk away but turning back to them, “If you will, please.”

 

From their current position this lower area of the building didn't seem that large. However it appeared that it was bigger than he thought. Pryce lead them through a door, that lead them through a hallway, and at the end of this hallway was a room. In this room was another door, and a massive glass window that looked into another room. From their current position all Peter could see was more glass and a bunch of machinery. Tubes, cooling systems, vats and the like. But what was in the center of the room the one they were in looked into was what looked like a containment system. Built of glass and metal, taking up almost the entire room itself and leaving little space for anything else but the machinery and a bit of walking room.

 

Most important, and strange, was what was in the containment center. Peter knew Pryce had captured one of the monsters, but he didn't know it was like this. What lurked in the center of that room, pacing on its wings and its taloned feet, was not what he was used to seeing. It was stark white, with translucent skin adorned with scars and healing wounds. Aside from its color it also had the addition of horns.

 

“Was it like this when you brought it here...?” Roman asked, evidently way more curious than he had been when he was forced into this.

 

“No...in fact, this seems to be a recent development. My theory is that the ones on the outside aren't adults, but adolescents or something similar, depending on their lifespan. This one, however, may be an adult. You see, what it eats in here is far different than its brethren. It eats the failed byproduct of what is meant for the upir nutrient. So while not enough to satiate an upir very well, it does well for this creature. It's far more nutrient rich and readily available than what's out there, meaning it may be maturing faster. Which reminds me...” Pryce stepped up to a console in front of one half of the glass, consisting of most notably a lever that he shifted to an upright position before pressing a button next to it. There was a harsh and gurgling whirring noise from the other room before a sudden shower of gore poured from the ceiling before them. Of course, neither of them could actually see the ceiling of the other room so Peter had to assume that the top of the containment center was wired to something that dropped 'food' into the room.

 

 

The beast surged forward towards the pile of entrails, blood, and other such disgusting abominations of science and hunched over to examine it, though how Peter was not sure as it appeared to have no eyes. It lifted one foot, balancing on the other while it picked up a long, stringy pile of gore and raised it high enough so that it could open the massive maw beneath its head and neck, sinking it's teeth into the meat. And these things were _big_. Peter hadn't seen many but its teeth were massive. Long and intersecting, and thick like nails. But somehow even through the glass the smell hit him hard. A coppery, almost sweet kind of smell that made him feel sick to his stomach.

 

“I'm going to go wait in the hall...” Peter said, heading towards the door with haste. Roman followed after him after giving Pryce a brief hand gesture that told him to wait a minute. Once they were in the hall he let out a long and slow breath to try to calm his stomach.

 

“Are you alright?” Roman asked, running his hand down his arm soothingly. “Never thought I'd see you get sick over guts.”

 

“It's the _smell_ not the sight,” Peter defended.

 

“You can smell that...?”

 

“I have a sensitive nose...I'm part wolf, remember? You know how chicks start getting nauseated by random smells that never bothered them before? It's like that.”

 

“Hopefully it's just a passing thing...You still need to drink that stuff.”

 

“Please don't talk about it. Just go, do whatever the fuck it is he wants you to do.”

Roman agreed, giving him a worried glance before he left and headed back into the other room. When he got there, the thing was still busying itself with the slop all over the floor.

 

“Is he alright?” Pryce asked, and Roman gave him a dismissive wave. “He said the smell bothered him. What do you want from me?”

 

“Well...other than the progress which you see here on the surface, it appears as though these creatures do possess a certain level of intelligence beyond just the drive to eat. They are potentially tamable.”

 

“Trinity, the ex Order agent, she had one tamed...but really I think it was less tamed and more...beaten into submission because it attacked her the first chance it got. Is that what you're doing? Why does it have so many scars?”

 

“That's an interesting story, actually...you see, at one point we had two. One of the beasts did circle a bit too close to Hemlock Grove, but was apparently hit by a car. We got word of it somewhere outside of town and went to retrieve it. I won't lie and say there weren't some unintended casualties. No deaths, but certainly injuries. I digress, we were able to tranquilize it and bring it back here. We put it with the other one. They are either a solitary species, or this one saw the chance for an easy kill. They fought, thus the scars.”

 

“And it had nothing to do with you taking biopsies or some shit?”

 

“...Well, perhaps. Either way no taming is being done with violence, as was your initial suspicion. In reality it's had to do with careful exposure.”

 

“What does this have to do with me?” Roman asked impatiently.

 

“Well, you see...the creature is now used to humans. Prior to this you could not even enter the room without it attacking the glass. Over time it seems to have grown used to people, perhaps it may even desire our companionship. However...knowing that Spivak seemed to have been trying to rid the world of anything that would be competition for food, I'd like to see how it reacts to _upirs._ If it's hardwired into the DNA to hate them. I merely need you to enter the room so I can study the reaction.”

 

“You know who else is an upir? My mother. Why didn't you ever get her to do this shit?”

 

“Because I do not trust her, Roman. She's already threatened to have my lab shut down and I don't need to give her anymore ammunition. If you're adamant about refusing to help I suppose I _can_ ask her, but I think it would be much easier if you would cooperate.”

“I'll do it,” Roman said with restrained irritation. “You want me to go in there now?”

 

“No...Wait until it's finished eating. It can be testy when there are people and food around.”

 

 

Roman found himself leaning against the wall for several minutes before hearing a loud hissing whir from the next room. He turned to witness water showering down from the ceiling into the containment room, showering the beast and washing the blood from it so that it went down the drain. It had eaten nearly every piece of matter in the room, the only thing it left was the blood it couldn't get. It seemed as though it was used to this shower ritual and almost like it enjoyed it.

 

“Are you ready?” Pryce asked, and Roman merely nodded. He held the door open for him as he stepped through, but Pryce didn't follow him.

 

“You aren't coming with me?” Roman asked before he entered.

 

“I don't want to alter the results in any way by entering the room. I'll stand here, so if you need to speak to me you can.”

 

Roman was slightly nervous, though he wasn't sure why. The thing was secured but he still felt very alone with it. He slowly and cautiously made his way in and towards the massive glass room in the center. The creature seemed to notice him and stood from where it had been crouched on the floor. Roman expected it to charge, expected it to shriek and scream at him in anger...but that's not what happened. What happened was perhaps far worse than any of that. It was something he didn't understand, and wouldn't until Pryce explained it.

 

 

It crept towards the edge of the glass, looking at him if you could call it that, with curiosity. It began to make a strange clicking, hissing noise from the maw hidden beneath its neck.

 

“Is this normal?” Roman asked, looking back at Pryce to see him looking just as confused as he was.

 

“I've never heard it make that sound before...” Pryce clarified. Roman tested it by walking along the glass, to which the beast followed, making the same noise. It spread its wings suddenly, shifting its body as though it was a sort of display. The skin on its head suddenly split. Spiked protrusions began to push through its skin before snapping forward towards the front of it's 'face' and forming a strange sort of fin.

 

“What the fuck is this thing doing?” Roman asked, but there was only silence.

 

This was not the end of its transformation. With its wings still spread wide the skin on its stomach began to split as well. From beneath its rib cage and to what looked like its pubic bone the skin opened to reveal what looked like a toothed maw. Pink and fleshy with teeth jutting from everywhere, and in the center a strange opening that lead further in. From this opening slid forth a slick, disgusting looking tongue of some sort. He thought it was a tongue... It wasn't.

 

“This is not what I expected to see at all...” Pryce said, watching with a sick sort of fascination.

 

“What the fuck is this?”

 

“I believe it's presenting itself to you...”

 

“It's what? Presenting _what?_ ” Roman was clearly getting more and more annoyed with Pryce's vague answers.

 

“It wants to mate with you. You have half of it's DNA, so mating with it would be possible.”

 

“Are you serious?!” Roman asked, disgusted. “So that's...is that a fucking _dick?_ ”

 

“I don't believe so, actually. Blood tests revealed that this creature is more female than male.”

 

“What the fuck kind of female has teeth in it's...Jesus Christ, fuck this,” Roman said, heading back towards the door.

 

“Wait, Roman don't move yet. I have one more thing I'd like to see.”

 

“What if this thing gets out and tries to fuck me?!”

 

“It _can't_ get out. Avert your eyes if you're so offended by it.”

 

“I am!” Roman said, turning away. “Whatever you're doing, you better do it quick.”

 

“One moment,” Pryce said, shutting the door behind him and rushing into the other room. From his position, Roman couldn't see where he'd gone. He could only listen to the clicking noises behind him. It took several minutes for Pryce to return and he returned with Peter, who looked pretty annoyed by the whole thing.

 

“Seriously?” Roman asked.

 

“This will be quick, I promise.”

 

As soon as Peter entered the room the creature became hostile. Its stomach closed along with the fin on its head and it screeched in rage. Instead of simply standing there it rushed at the glass, slamming against it. Pryce rushed the three of them out seconds later, and upon returning to the window its agitated state was obvious. It paced the room, squealing and hissing, looking for the thing that had made it so angry.

 

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Peter asked.

 

“It seems that unlike upirs, hating lycanthropes _is_ hardwired into it's DNA.”

 

“That thing tried to fuck me, that's what happened.” Roman spat. “And this motherfucker was just gonna let it happen”

 

“Roman, you were in no danger. I apologize if this was in any way traumatic, but this has opened many doors of scientific discovery. This means that if you are ever to witness one in the wild that has sexually matured...well, you're either safer or in more danger than before.”

 

“Ugh...” Roman said, turning from the window. “Fuck off. You let that thing show me it's she-dick.”

 

“I'm _sorry_ , Roman.”

 

“That was a female...?” Peter asked.

 

“Apparently. Can we get out of here now? I don't want to be anywhere near that thing.”

 

“Of course. Come, I'll show you where you'll be staying and let you get settled.”

 

 

 

Pryce had lead them to the upstairs hospital rooms, with the intention of being fair and giving them their own rooms. Unbeknownst to him, as soon as Roman retrieved the bags from the car Peter had snuck into his room anyway. It made Roman laugh when he found him there, sitting on the bed and waiting for him.

 

“I'll leave if you want,” Peter said, leaning forward on the bed slightly. “I mean, tonight...I know the bed isn't very big.”

 

“No,” Roman said, coming over to sit next to him. “You can stay.”

“I might kick you off by accident,” Peter said jokingly. Roman huffed out a light laugh, pulling him closer and wrapping an arm around his waist. He leaned forward to kiss the place between his neck and collar bone as he mumbled into his skin. “It's not that much worse than the one in the van.”

 

“If that's what you want...Are you okay?”

 

“Am I okay with what?” Roman asked, pulling away from his neck.

 

“I don't know...with what happened downstairs.”

 

“Yeah...it was kind of gross and weird but I'm fine. Are you okay? You're not still sick?”

 

“I'm good,” Peter said, and was silent for a few moments. “But I'm tired...” he said with a sigh.

 

“So am I...Fuck Pryce for a while, go to sleep.”

 

“You think he'll wake us up?”

 

“If he does I'll kick his ass,” Roman said, kicking off his shoes and laying back on the bed. Peter joined him seconds later. It was a tight fit but it was doable. He was pressed tightly against him, and Roman wrapped an arm around him once more so that he might secure him and run his fingers through his hair.

 

“You gonna let him examine everything later?”

 

“Yes...I told Destiny to be there.”

 

“Really?” Roman laughed.

 

“Yeah. I mean she's gotta know how to get the thing out, right?”

 

“Yeah. You're braver than I am. I..” Roman stalled, wanting to say he wouldn't want Letha looking at his crotch like that or being in the room with him if this was happening to him, but he knew Letha was dead and didn't want to use her memory like that. Especially knowing Peter's history with her, and knowing his own history. “Never mind.”

 

Peter fell asleep faster than Roman, and while he was waiting to enter that blissful land of sleep he found himself staring at him again. Peter, of course, was blissfully unaware of this. If he were he'd probably tell him to stop staring at him. It was the last thing he saw before he was suddenly waking up, groggy and alone. There was a jolt of fear that built up in his stomach, even though logically Peter was probably around somewhere. He still shot up, looking terrified and ready to tear the place apart to find him when he emerged from the bathroom.

 

“Dude, you look like you saw a ghost.” Peter laughed.

 

“You scared the shit out of me.”

 

“Sorry, I'll be sure to leave a note the next time I take a piss.”

 

“Don't be a dick,” Roman shot back. He ran his hand along his face, trying to shake off the weariness of sleep.

 

“While you were asleep Pryce came in and said he wanted to...get started or whatever when you woke up.”

 

“How nice of him...” Roman said sarcastically. “Did he wake you up? Do I need to kick his ass?”

 

“No. I was already awake. He said he'd come back soon-,” there was a sudden knock at the door and Pryce entered soon after. “Speak of the devil.”

 

“I assure you I'm not,” Pryce responded. “Are you ready?”

 

“As I'll ever be,” Peter mumbled. “Fucking love having strangers stare at my crotch.”

 

“I assure you I'll be professional.”

 

“I sure hope so.”

 

 

 

Roman may have been annoyed about the whole thing, but Peter was resigned to the fact that it was going to happen. Yes, he was annoyed, but he knew it would _hopefully_ be helpful to them. When Roman had finally woken up a bit better Pryce lead them from the room where Destiny was waiting for them. She gave him a reassuring smile and gently patted him on the shoulder, as some form of comfort he imagined. Pryce lead him down a hall he'd never been down, at least he didn't think so. Everything looked the same to him really but he was pretty sure he hadn't. They arrived at a room that had what looked like a gynecological chair in the center that made him feel a bit awkward. He wasn't a woman, yet here he was. Pryce instructed him to sit at the edge before dropping a bomb on him.

 

“Peter...I'm afraid I haven't been very honest with you, and I'd like to apologize. I'd also like to ask your permission for something else.”

 

“You've been lying to me?” Peter asked, voice raised in an angered pitch. “About what?”

 

“You know that I'm not an obstetrician...but there _is_ an obstetrician in the building. I've been confiding with her about your case. Double checking with her each time I've examined you to make sure what I'm seeing is accurate. I assure you she is trustworthy. I would never do anything to put you in danger.”

 

“How could you lecture us about keeping things secret in fear of the Order when you've been blabbing all this shit to someone else?” Roman asked. Peter could tell he was unhappy. They both were; he was pretty sure Destiny was pissed in some degree, too.

 

“Would you rather me be wrong about the results? It's important that I confirm them with a professional who truly does this for a living, especially as high risk as this is.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” Peter asked exasperatedly. “Why now?”

 

“Because I would like us _both_ to examine you. I'm unsure at what I'm going to find and someone who knows the specifics of female reproduction would certainly help matters.”

 

“I don't care,” Peter spat, “If she already knows all this shit, just go get her. It's not like it won't get back to her anyway.”

 

“You've made the right choice...Now if you could-,” Pryce cut himself off to turn to one of the cabinets and pull out a thick, long sheet, “Take off your pants for me and we'll get started when I return.” Without another word, he was gone.

 

“Jesus Christ...” Peter mumbled, pulling the blanket over his lower half and attempting to take his pants off while sitting and covered.

 

“I thought when I told him this shit was to be kept secret he wouldn't' go telling everyone about it.” Roman said from beside him.

 

“He's kind of right,” Destiny chimed in. “I don't like it as much as either of you do that he's told an outsider _two_ of Peter's biggest secrets but it's better to be safe than sorry.”

 

“He could have let us know,” Roman said, pacing by the bed slightly. His jaw was clenched in restrained anger as he stared at the door ahead of them. “I mean, that's so fucking hypocritical.”

 

Peter was silent, seeing the sides to both stories as equal. Instead he merely handed Roman his pants, who set them in a nearby chair. He felt very uncomfortable even though he was just sitting there covered up. No one could see _anything_ and yet it felt strange to sit half naked on a table with the knowledge of what would be taking place soon. No sooner than he'd undressed did Pryce return with a middle-aged woman. She was short, wearing thick rimmed glasses and a bun of black hair. A little on the chubby side, and Peter thought she might be of some Asian descent.

 

“Hi, I'm Doctor Warren. Pryce has told me a lot about you,” she said with a smile. It seemed to be genuine, though. Even just having met her he could tell her bedside manner was better than Pryce's.

 

“So I've heard,” Peter said, deadpan and turning his attention to Pryce.

 

“Despite what you may think, Peter, I am only trying to help. Shall we begin?”

 

 

Peter mumbled a curse beneath his breath, only one Destiny could understand. She covered her mouth to constrain the laugh that threatened to escape her. He slipped down far enough so that he could put his legs in the stirrups and made sure the blanket was covering him as much as possible. Warren pulled up rolling chair and sat down so that she was level with where she needed to be, afterwards reaching on the side of the chair and pulling out what appeared to be a light attached to it. She turned it on and moved it accordingly so that she could see. He decidedly did not enjoy this; he did not enjoy her hands so close to his bits or the fact that what she was doing was incredibly invasive. He was lying with one hand across his chest, staring up at the ceiling and trying to count the tiles so he could forget about what she was doing. Roman apparently noticed this. He reached over to lay his hand over Peter's, giving him a look of concern. Silently asking if he was alright but not doing so verbally. In turn he merely rotated his hand so that he could actually grab onto it.

 

“I am actually a bit out of my depth here...” he head her mutter from below him. “There's not a lot for me to discern because this is so different from what I'm used to. There's no outer tissue, no lubrication; for all intents and purposes it's just an opening.”

 

“There is...” Peter said, his voice slightly strained as he spoke through gritted teeth. “There is lubrication. It just doesn't happen unless it's touched.”

 

“Do you mean as far as arousal or...?”

 

“No. I mean it just responds to touch in general.” Peter really hated explaining this to her.

 

“I see...I'm sorry for all this. I know it's probably embarrassing.”

 

“I'm not embarrassed,” Peter responded. It was a quick and nervous sounding response, because it was true technically. He wasn't as embarrassed as he felt too exposed. It was always this way; with Pryce and people he didn't know, looking at him, knowing things about him. He was so used to trying to hide even though he tried to let people in his own mind wouldn't fully allow it. He couldn't stand it.

 

“Well,” she said, and he heard a commotion from where she sat. He heard her mumble something quietly to Pryce, sounding like some medical jargon and Peter watched as he passed behind her and pulled a large rolling tray to her side. “There are a few tests I want to do. To see what's going down here and kind of try to paint a picture of what's going to happen during delivery, so we can make sure everything goes well even if neither of us will be with you. You might feel a little discomfort. I'm going to have to put an instrument or two in you. Not at the same time, don't worry.”

 

“Okay,” he said with a restrained sigh. He felt a very cold dampness between his legs for a moment, and then something hard and equally as cold. It felt like metal and he felt his body resisting as she pushed it into him. It was uncomfortable at first in general, getting more and more so the further she pushed it into him. She stopped finally and he felt the instrument remain in place for a few moments as she seemed to prepare for something. “You might feel some pressure,” she warned. What he felt wasn't exactly pressure.

 

She adjusted the instrument so that it pulled him open but his body was very resistant. It started with mild pain but evolved into a very intense, sharp and shooting stretching sensation that traveled up his pelvis and at the base of his penis. He took in a deep inhale and instinctively tried to pull his lower half away but found that made it worse. His entire body felt tense and he found himself tightly gripping the edge of the bed and Roman's hand.

 

“I'm sorry,” Warren said from beneath him. “We're almost done, just a little further.”

 

By the time she'd gone as far as it seemed she would go, Peter could nearly feel his breath taken from him. It felt like someone was trying to rip his dick off, or out. He let out heavy breaths and dug his nails into the leather. Destiny was soothingly running her hand along his arm and looking concerned. Peter was concerned, too. He was concerned that if he felt this now, like this with that cold and metal instrument shoved into his body, he would feel this again trying to deliver. He knew it would probably take much longer, too.

 

 

The pressure suddenly began to abate with a series of fast clicking and grinding noises and she quickly pulled out the instrument out once it had returned to it's initial width. He felt all tension seem to leave him at this moment and he let out a heavy sigh of relief, feeling boneless and heavy now in the chair. Destiny ran her hand along his hair, pulling it away from where it had gotten stuck to his forehead. Roman, in turn, had laced his fingers through Peter's and was gently running the tips of them over his skin where he could in some bizarre attempt to calm him.

 

“You okay?” Warren asked, and the response he gave was ambiguous. A low and breathy groan that wavered on its way out. He wasn't okay. The pain was still a dull throb in his groin, barely there and hardly the worst part of it now. He felt a bit shaky and he could feel a slickness leaking down his skin. He wasn't sure if it was part of the lubricant or his own 'natural' lubricant. He imagined being stretched open like that probably kicked it into overdrive.

 

“Okay, so ...for future references, the opening is a bit wider and longer than a vagina and has none of the external or internal workings of one, other than the cervix. It's at a slightly different angle, though. There's a lot of resistance, and that one I'm not sure about.”

 

“That may be more my area of expertise,” Pryce said, addressing Warren more than Peter. He did eventually turn to Peter to speak to him. “I'd like Doctor Warren to preform a transvaginal ultrasound so that we can see the layout of all of your missing extremities. It's a very small device and shouldn't give you as much trouble as the speculum. We can wait or continue.”

 

“Do it,” Peter commanded. “Please, just get this shit over with.”

 

 

Pryce said nothing more and pulled a second cart from the corner of the room to them, one with a monitor on it. It faced Pryce at the moment because it seemed like they were mostly looking at his insides rather than the baby itself. If they were it would probably not be very viable information to Peter. He could see some of the screen from his position but not much of it. It flickered to life when he felt the slickness of a much smaller instrument pushing back into him. Uncomfortable, but not painful.

 

“Try to move to where there was some resistance,” Pryce told Warren. He did feel a tinge of pain when she did this. She pressed it somewhat hard against the place that seemed to cause him a bit more than mild discomfort. Whatever this showed seemed to interest Pryce.

 

“The birth canal seems to have split the corpora cavernosa, and the corpus spongiosum. It has left the outer part of the penis intact, but the inner part now diverges on either side of the birth canal. This would explain the resistance and pain. Unfortunately, this complicates the notion of delivery. It could cause temporary or permanent penile damage but...assuming this is apparently not the first case, the body must know to prevent this from happening. I can imagine delivery through the cavernosa will still be quite painful. That doesn't explain the absence of your testicles, though...”

 

“Try further back,” Peter mumbled. He wasn't surprised to find out that giving birth for him would be a lot harder than if he was a woman. Of course it would. He wasn't built for this. What cruel God had given werewolves this ability, knowing it would be so much worse? He winced slightly when Warren slid the probe in further, pressing against something that made his abdomen radiate with mild pain.

 

“You were right, they are further back...Much further back, actually.”

 

 

Warren spoke to him in a low tone, one he was unable to hear but it again sounded like medical jargon. Something that would only be useful for anyone who had a lick of knowledge about the inner workings of the body. After a brief and hushed discussion Warren removed the probe once more and the sensation that came with it was disgusting. A slick and sticky gush of fluid that followed it. He shuttered slightly at the feeling, but it seemed to draw the attention of both the doctors.

 

“That is very...very abnormal,” Warren said.

 

“Is everything okay?” Roman asked. He sounded worried and in turn this worried Peter a bit, but he said nothing.

 

“Um...yes, I think. It's just that there's a lot of fluid. Not amniotic fluid, the mucous plug is still very intact, just...this very bizarre secretion.”

 

“I told you that happens when you touch it...” Peter reminded.

 

“Right, you did...It's just, it's not the same consistency I'm used to. It's very thick.”

 

Peter had a general idea of what she was talking about but he wasn't about to admit the reason he knew is because he took a dick in there.

 

“I'm going to take a sample,” she said, and he felt the sensation of something running along the area that seemed to be a cotton swab briefly before she drew it away and Peter heard a clicking noise from below him. “I'm going to let Doctor Pryce run this to the lab and then we can move onto part two of the exam, is that okay?”

 

“What is part two?” Peter asked warily.

 

“Just an external ultrasound; like one you've had before. You can go ahead and get cleaned up and dressed again.” Warren reached down to where Pryce had gotten the blanket and handed him a towel. He knew what it was going to take to clean himself up and he was aware that even after he got himself clean it was still probably going to leak for a good few minutes. He waited until they left the room to quickly shove the towel between his legs and hold it there.

 

“That was enlightening,” Destiny said once they were sufficiently alone. “So now I know that this won't be easy...”

 

“Is that really a surprise?” Peter asked, sitting up further so that he could adjust the towel.

 

“Aren't you worried?” Roman suddenly interjected. He'd of course been rather quiet. “About the pain?”

 

“Not really...It's going to happen either way. Besides, you know what I go through every month. You know what I've _been_ through the last few months.”

 

“You need to think of a game plan though, Peter.” Destiny said. “It's not going to be as fast as your turns. You need to find a way to get through the pain. Most people take Lamaze classes but you can't really do that...”

 

“I'll figure something out...but sitting around being afraid isn't going to help me.”

 

“You've really got to learn to breathe because I saw what you just went through with just the speculum.”

 

“That's because it felt like someone was trying to rip my dick off.”

 

When he felt the most of the leaking had passed, now sufficiently smeared all over the towel like something unsettlingly similar to the mucous of mollusks, he took his pants back and pulled them on beneath the blanket again, pushing it aside once he was dressed once more. Destiny looked like she wanted to say more to him but she was keeping herself quiet. Peter knew she meant well, he knew why she was saying the things she was saying, but he also knew that none of them could do anything about it now.

 

“I just hope you'll be alright.” she finally said, and it seemed to be the end of it. Not long after was there a brief knock and both Pryce and Warren returned to the room.

 

“Sorry for the delay,” she said, moving to the cart with the monitor on it. Peter noticed that she'd changed the probe attached to it without him realizing, though he wasn't sure where she'd put the other one. “So I understand the last time you had an ultrasound, you were fifteen weeks?”

“I think...But it doesn't really grow on a normal time schedule.”

 

“That makes this whole thing more difficult. Pull your shirt up for me, please.” she said gesturing towards him. He did, making sure to push his jeans down slightly because he knew that was the next thing she would ask. She continued her somewhat one-sided conversation as she took up the tube of gel and squeezed a small amount onto his skin. “It's dangerous to not have any idea of a due date, so I've talked to Doctor Pryce about doing an ultrasound a day while you're here. I think the two of us might be able to pinpoint how quickly it's growing, or if it's still growing quickly at all. Maybe then we can get an idea of how long you have left. Would you be okay with that?”

 

Peter nodded at her, though it still made him uncomfortable as it always did. He wasn't entirely sure how long he was going to be here but to have a minor medical examination each day seemed tiring and invasive. She had a good point though so he was forced to agree. While she prepared to examine him, Roman was forced to move to the other side of the chair next to Destiny. The threatening energy that radiated from her as he stepped next to her was palpable. Peter caught her eyes roaming up and down his form as though she were trying to read his thoughts. Knowing Destiny that could've very well been what she was doing.

 

“Okay, let's see what we've got,” Warren said, now pushing the probe to his stomach. Not much showed up at first but a lot of grey and black blobs. He never knew what the fuck was happening on these things. The look on her face was somewhat concerning. She looked focused and confused.

 

“Is everything okay?” Roman asked. It was always Roman, it seemed, who asked the questions Peter was too afraid to ask.

 

“Oh...yes, I think so. It's just hard to tell anything from this position.”

 

“It seems to face that way each time we preform an ultrasound,” Pryce noted. Warren let out a slight chuckle. She placed one hand on the side of his stomach and applied pressure, but it didn't seem to make a difference at first.

 

“Come on,” she muttered. Though it seemed to be in vain at first, Peter suddenly felt a strong kick that seemed to be in the direction of the probe. “It's not happy with that,” Warren chuckled. “But it's going to have to turn or I won't be able to see anything.”

 

Finally, feeling a very strong rolling sensation in his abdomen he watched the shape change to something far more human looking. He watched as it raised its arm and moved it to what must have been the face.

 

“We've got a thumbsucker already,” Warren said. “Okay...wow, you're carrying very small.”

 

“How old is it?” Peter asked, his voice getting caught for a moment in his lungs. It cracked like he was a boy again.

 

“Twenty...twenty-five weeks. It looks like twenty-five weeks. No apparent abnormalities, a bit small but for some babies that's normal.” She pushed at his stomach once more, in an attempt to get the baby to move again. As she did so Peter watched as she would turn every so often to hit a button on the keyboard attached to the monitor. The baby seemed insistent on staying put and he wasn't entirely sure why she was trying to move it as much as she was. Still, he was fascinated with it. A little, tiny person living and breathing. Perfectly healthy and perfectly willing to give him hell from the inside. He got pissed off at it all the time but every time something new happened, or he saw it again, he felt that swelling warmth deep in his chest.

 

The baby finally moved, but only slightly. It seemed to be what she wanted as she stopped pushing at his stomach and pressed on the keyboard once more. Then she turned to the both of them, a smile on her face as she spoke. “Do you want to know the gender?”

 

“Y-yeah,” Peter stammered, turning to Roman “Do you?”

 

“Yeah, of course.”

 

“It's a girl,” she said with a smile. “And she's got a lot of spirit already.”

 

“Oh, fuck...” Roman muttered. It almost looked like he would faint. Peter was a little shocked too. He'd been right all this time. Their baby was really a girl. Still he couldn't help but laugh at Roman's reaction. Destiny seemed a little perturbed but he knew she'd get over it. As Warren pulled the probe away and Pryce gave him a towel, she did a few more things with the keyboard before turning back to him.

 

“Do you want pictures?”

 

“Yes!” Destiny shouted before Peter even had the chance to answer. “I mean, if he doesn't want them, I do.”

 

“Yes,” Peter said with amusement. He wasn't sure what he'd do with them, but at this point he thought they might be nice to have.

 

“I'll have them to you later,” Pryce said while Peter began to clean the goop off his stomach. “Now if you'll excuse me there's work to be done. Thank you, Doctor Warren.” Pryce headed out without so much as a goodbye, but Warren did bid them farewell before heading out. The minute they were alone, Destiny socked Roman in the shoulder as quick as a viper and earned a surprised yelp from him.

 

“Really, Roman?” she hissed, chastising him for his earlier comment.

 

“I was just surprised!” Roman said, rubbing his shoulder. “Is this whole family going to beat the shit out of me before the baby's born?”

 

“Are you okay?” Peter chuckled.

 

“Yeah, she didn't hit me that hard...”

 

“I mean with the whole girl thing.”

 

“Yeah, I think. Maybe...fuck,” Roman mumbled.

 

“Don't,” Peter said, reaching out to grab his arm. “It's okay. We'll make it okay.”

 

“You're right...” Roman said, reaching to grab onto Peter's hand again. “It's okay...and she'll kick ass just like your cousin.”

 

“Damn right she will,” Destiny smirked.

 

Roman leaned over him, kissing him softly and then merely hovering by his face. He carded his fingers through his hair and laid a few more soft kisses on his lips and spoke after the fourth or fifth one.

 

“I love you...I didn't get to tell you that after the last one. You were too pissed off.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Peter said softly but with amusement. “Love you too.”

 

When Roman finally pulled away Destiny seemed to have softened considerably. She didn't immediately catch his gaze but she watched Roman with a sense of understanding and happiness. There was even the briefest hint of a smile on her face.

 

 

The rest of the day was unremarkable, other than the fact that they were stuck in a massive biotech company tower sleeping together in hospital beds. They spent a bit of time with Destiny in the cafeteria but gave Shelley a wide berth as Roman seemed to be a bit afraid of his own daughter for the time being. It was sad, almost like he'd reverted but Peter knew the reason he wasn't around her was because he was too afraid to get too attached again. Afraid that he'd have to deal with seeing her cry again like she had before. Truly he was probably going about this completely the wrong way but he wouldn't push it.

 

 

 

Pressed close together in that hospital bed, Peter allowed Roman to touch him that night. In the dark and under the covers he laid with his back to Roman's front, with one arm draped over Peter's hip to cradle his abdomen. He was tired and complacent for the time being and Roman had better appreciate what he was doing for him. With his hand gently running over the small expanse of his stomach, Roman laid gentle kisses on the back of his neck and buried his nose in his hair.

 

“Damn I really do shoot a lot of girls, don't I.” Roman mumbled.

 

“You do _what_?” Peter asked. He knew what Roman meant but didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

 

“I mean out of my dick, damn Peter you know what I meant.”

 

“Yeah...D'you want a son?”

 

“It doesn't really matter. Maybe a little...maybe we can try next time.”

 

“Fuck that, there's no next time. You better be kidding.”

 

“I am,” Roman said, breathing laughter into his hair and skin.

 

“If that heat thing ever happens again, I'm kicking you out of the house. Or you kick yourself out of the house; I'd rather deal with being ridiculously horny than this again.”

 

Roman laughed again and Peter felt a pleasant tingle run up his spine. He was getting a little too low and kissing him a little too much.

 

“I'll be sure to only screw you when you can't get knocked up.”

 

“Bold of you to think I'll ever want to have sex again after this.”

 

“Aw, really?” Roman mumbled. He could feel the smile on the back of his neck. “Shit, guess I'll just have to pick up a bunch of prostitutes.”

 

“Whatever floats your boat.” Peter said, shifting closer to him. He brought his own hand to rest over Roman's for a moment. He wanted to simply lay here like this but Roman's presence alone was starting to turn him on. He pulled his hand away from his stomach and pushed it between his legs instead, holding it there with his thighs and his hand. “But in the mean time, make yourself useful.”

 

“Wow, okay, guess I'm just a piece of meat,” Roman chuckled. He left another kiss on his neck, though this one was much less family friendly.

 

“And I'm starving.”

 

_**ART** _

 

_**SFW Creature art:** _

_**** _

_**[Link with genitals](https://i.gyazo.com/7b03bbf2df72daeae0c4d8cccb25d6a6.png) ** _

 


	22. No Safety, No Shame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about this kinda weird sex scene at the beginning
> 
> and all the sex scenes but there's going to be a part soonish where it will be a lot harder to write them so i'm doing what i can now 
> 
> anyway there is art at the end but two of them are in links considering it's some kinda visible mpreg shit 
> 
> also again i thank the viewers/readers/etc for commentin' on my shit it keeps me going even though i'm bad at responding

Roman woke the next morning, he assumed it was morning, to Peter somewhat aggressively spooning him. It was a somewhat rude awakening because Peter was not so non-nonchalantly _trying_ to wake him up.

 

“Someone better be fuckin' dead, Peter,” he grumbled into the pillow.

 

“If you say that to me again it's going to be you.”

 

“Why are you trying to wake me up? Especially like _that_.”

 

“Because of this, asshole,” Peter hissed out, pushing himself closer to him. It was clear to him, almost instantly, that he was very clearly aroused and the apparent reason for waking him up was trying to get laid. Roman was somewhat annoyed but at the same time amused.

 

“What's that got to do with me?” Roman muttered, and thanks to his back being turned to him Peter didn't notice the smirk on his face.

 

“Roman...” Peter said with a sigh, and he felt his face lean against his back for a moment as he let out a muffled whimper. “You're a fuckin' asshole. I wouldn't be like this if it weren't for you.”

 

“Why couldn't you be the kind of pregnant person who wakes me up for random weird ass cravings in the middle of the night?”

 

“I do have weird ass cravings. For dick, which is weird, considering you're such a little bitch.”

 

“You only want my dick if I'm not a little bitch?”

 

“I'll make an exception. Are you really going to complain? You'd rather be out there looking for fucking pickle flavored ice cream in the middle of the night instead of getting laid?”

 

Roman finally turned to face him, laying a hand on his hip to pull him close. He migrated that hand so that it was resting on Peter's jaw, holding it so that he could tilt his head up. There was a look of defiance but undeniable arousal in the black pools of his pupils. Roman was willing to give him what he asked for but he was unhappy about being woken up. He couldn't give him the satisfaction of waking him up and getting dick just like that.

 

 

“D'you want pickle flavored ice cream?” In response to this, Peter grabbed his arm to pull it away, giving him a rough shove to the chest.

 

“You think you're a fucking comedian, don't you?” he asked, sitting up suddenly to look down at him. It was somewhat intimidating. “Do you know what's not funny, though? This fuckin hardon. It's not funny. I've had it since I woke up an _hour_ ago, and God knows I tried jerking off but that didn't do _shit_. I'm gonna have a fuckin' priapism Roman. But just laugh it up, motherfucker. When they have to put the needle in my dick you're going to watch.”

 

“Okay, okay...first of all, I think it's four hours not one, but second of all just...” Roman sat up, running a hand over his face. “Let me go piss and I'll get back in here and give you what you want. You woke me up out of a dead sleep and I had to make you work for it.”

 

“Fine. And don't come back in here until you have a boner, I'm not feeling that foreplay shit right now.”

 

“Aren't you demanding for someone who's practically begging?” Roman asked with a smirk, sliding off the bed and heading into the bathroom. He heard Peter yell an obscenity at him before he shut the door. He spent more time in the bathroom than Peter was probably pleased about. About five seconds of it doing what he came in there to do and to brush his teeth, but getting himself worked up this early was a little harder. He thought of titties and everything. It was a sobering realization to think that titties didn't get him off, anymore. They were just tits now. Women were beautiful and attractive but he had fallen for something much more rugged. So he thought of Peter and what he planned to do to him, his hand shoved down his sweat pants trying to work his dick into something usable. It worked a lot faster and once again reminded Roman just how far he'd fallen. In a good way, mostly.

 

Peter was under the covers when he got back looking impatient and annoyed. It could have been a number of different things that was bothering him but Roman had to guess one of them was his tardiness and his need to fuck with him before actually fucking him. He sat up long enough to beckon Roman towards him and he saw he was wearing nothing but the tank top he'd worn to bed. Roman originally crawled onto the bed, hovering over him or a moment in an preparation to bed him but Peter made it clear he wasn't happy with the position by grabbing him by the shoulders and flipping him onto his back. He found he was serious about not wanting foreplay when not seconds later he unceremoniously yanked his pants down below his hips to expose him just enough. He wouldn't lie and say he wasn't feeling somewhat used, but the thought fled his psyche when Peter slicked his cock up with lube and wasted no time straddling his hips and sinking back onto his cock. He was ready and accepting for him and he managed to take him to the hilt fairly quickly.

 

Roman took in a shuttering breath, letting his hands fall to Peter's hips and sinking his teeth into his lip to stifle the low groan that followed.

 

“Are you satisfied?” Roman asked, shifting his hips up instinctively as Peter pulled away. He chased the warmth of his body in a desperate craving, far more receptive to this than he had been moments prior.

 

“Not yet,” he replied, leaning forward to place his hands flat on Roman's chest, to roll his hips against his cock in a slow and methodical fashion. It forced a long and heavy breath from his lungs, reveling in the contact. He seemed to be enjoying it far more than usual. Not like he didn't enjoy it most of the times but found himself a bit more vocal. The haze of sleep was still somewhat settled over his brain, and Peter was so warm and felt _so_ good; he just hoped he could last long enough to satisfy him.

 

He ran his hand up his back and to his neck, entangling his fingers in his hair and pushing him down to kiss him. The other hand slipped between the two of them so he could grip his cock and attempt to jerk him off in tandem with the way Peter moved his hips. It was hard with the way Peter kept moving, working his hips against him with desperation. The kisses he gave him were brief and broken when would inevitably pull away to move or breathe. Roman still chased them with the need to get his mouth on him and found it easier to move away from kissing him on the mouth and instead kissing the side of his neck. Of course, it didn't say kissing. It didn't take long for it to turn to biting. If this continued the way it did, Peter's neck would never heal from all the biting and bruising.

 

Peter soon became very aggressive and from what he could tell, perturbed. He pulled himself back into a sitting position and rode him so hard that Roman thought he might snap his dick off. He could tell that he wasn't very close and it seemed to be frustrating him. Something was going to have to give because Roman couldn't keep this up forever, either.

 

“You're gonna break my fuckin' dick,” Roman hissed, grabbing him by the hips to stall him for a second. Peter let out a dismayed whine between the heavy breaths of exertion and what seemed like minimal pleasure. He almost looked like he might cry. It made Roman feel awful. “Are you okay?”

 

“I'm pissed,” Peter responded. Though he sounded more upset than pissed. “I get so close and then it just stops and I can't get anywhere.”

 

“Maybe you need to be on bottom, unless you really just want to be on top” he replied, running his hand along his hip and thigh from both the need to touch him and to calm him down.

 

“I'm only on top because I thought you'd be too tired to actually do anything.”

 

“I'm awake enough,”

 

Roman pulled him close enough so that he could roll over and make sure Peter was under him without accidentally banging his head off the headboard. This wasn't the position he intended to stay in but he stayed there long enough to kiss him hard. To run his hand up his side and rest his fingers on his ribs before pushing his shirt up to his sternum.

 

“Roman, please...” Peter murmured, shifting his hips up and arching his back when Roman sucked welts into his neck again.

 

“If I don't pace myself I'll come way before you do,” Roman said quietly against his ear. His response was a low whine and the feeling of him collapsing as much as he could against the bed.

 

Roman still continued to touch him while he waited, though. He reached between them once more to languidly jerk his cock, lower and lower each time until the edge of his thumb pressed against the opening below it. He heard Peter give out a startled groan when he did. He remembered that Peter didn't really care to be touched there but it gave him an epiphany. He knew what was on either side of that opening, now. He knew that he'd brought him to climax before using just that. The idea he had, he knew Peter would be resistant to try but he wondered if it might work.

 

“I think I have an idea...” Roman said, letting go of his cock for the time being. “But you might not like it.”

 

“If you think sticking your dick in my...dick, is going to get me off, you're wrong.”

 

“Not my dick, actually. Hold on,” Roman said, pulling his hips back so that he could pull out of him, listening to Peter let out an annoyed groan as he did so. Roman had taken the liberty of putting a few things in the bag that Peter wasn't aware of. Namely, a bunch of batteries and one of the bullet vibrators Peter had kept in the box. He dug through the bag to find it at the bottom in one of the pockets, opening it up and slipping in two batteries before snapping it shut again and climbing back onto the bed.

 

“Do you think you could use this while I fuck you?” Roman asked, slipping himself back between his legs. Not entering him just yet, but resting his cock against his thigh. He felt Peter shudder at the sensation, because he knew having someone's lubed up dick rubbing on your leg probably wasn't very sexy.

 

“Um...” Peter said, reaching down to take it from him, as to examine it briefly. “I thought you were adamant about using it on me. How the fuck did you get this in here, anyway?”

 

“I would...but I don't really know what I'm looking for.”

 

“I don't either...”

 

“But you'll be able to feel it better than I can.”

 

Peter let out a low and exasperated sigh, resting it against his upper abdomen for a moment and considering his options.

 

“Fuck it, fine. Just put your dick in me while you still can.”

 

With the go-ahead Roman re-positioned himself and attempted to feed himself back into Peter's body. It was harder than it had been before, as his body had started to remember to reject intrusions. Not quite well enough though, and he managed to push back in soon enough. It was evidently more painful than he realized. Peter winced slightly at the intrusion and let out a shuddered breath of pain, forcing himself to relax long enough for his body to get used to it once more. When his inner muscles stopped fighting him, Peter reached over to the side table to take up the lube once more and slick up the plastic device and slip it between his legs.

 

Sheathed to the hilt as he was, it was hard at first for Peter to maneuver anything else into his body because of the location of Roman's hips. Unsurprisingly, with something pushed into the mostly unused opening, he became a lot tighter. Roman realized he hadn't thought this over quite well. The tightness, the inevitable vibration he would probably feel through him; it would make him come much faster.

 

“Don't use it yet,” Roman said, grabbing his hip with one hand and his cock with the other. “Because if you do I don't know how long I can last.”

 

“Then why did you have me put it in here now?” Peter huffed.

 

“ _You_ were the one who put it in, not me. Just wait until you're close again.”

 

He pulled his own hips back once more, keeping a tight hold on Peter's to ground himself and keep him in place. With one calculated movement he thrust into him hard, sending him slightly further up the bed. He knew that fucking him harder sometimes helped to finally push him over the edge, and it seemed to help now. After a few more hard thrusts he watched, and listened, as Peter melted into his touch and muffled a whimpering moan. He was quieter than usual, and Roman wasn't sure how much of it was just him not feeling it as much and how much was him trying to keep quiet. Even he knew that it would be weird for them to be so obviously screwing around at Roman's place of work.

 

 

Roman was trying to hold out the best he could but watching Peter always seemed to get him closer so much faster. He wanted to look away but he was mesmerizing. One hand still between them, as close as he could get it. The other was thrown behind him to grip at the pillow behind his head. He met Roman's thrusts by rolling his hips towards him each time, and it made Roman feel weak in the knees. The burn in his groin growing ever higher the more he watched him.

 

“Are you close enough?” he asked, between pants as he worked into him as hard as he could.

 

“Almost,” Peter breathed out. Roman jerked the hand on Peter's cock up to the head, pushing his thumb against the slit and running it along the area in a desperate attempt to get him closer. He heard Peter let out a hiss that devolved into a muffled moan. He could tell just by his movements he really was closer. He was tighter, his muscles stiffer and the tension in his abdomen seemed to be growing. But it seemed like still he was stuck on the spot of just close enough, but not nearly there yet.

 

“Do it,” Roman said through gritted teeth.

 

Peter reached further between them, waited for Roman to pull out just enough so that he could get to the dial on the top of the vibrator and struggled to turn it. It was slick from two different lubrications and his fingers were slipping. He realized that even though Roman wasn't the one moving it, Peter might not be able to move it either. There wasn't enough room to get his hand down there. Still, he managed to finally turn it and did not pull any punches. He turned it up as high as it would go and Roman felt like he was about to lose his entire soul through his dick. He bit back a moan and thrust back into him, inevitably pushing the vibrator further with his hips. It slipped out somewhat when he pulled back and forward once more when he thrust in. Somehow he managed to fuck Peter twice.

 

Peter did not seem bothered by this at all. His thighs shook around him as did his breathing; breathless gasps and sighs that got caught in his lungs with the need to stay quiet. Roman would go down with the knowledge that he fought and tried as long as he could, but the vibration got him before it did Peter. He fought to keep quiet himself. He'd never had any experience with a vibrator but _boy_ did it do things to him. Choked and muffled moans pushed from his lungs, stopped by the teeth in his lip as he still fucked him as long as he could.

 

“Don't stop,” Peter whimpered out. “Fuck, _please_.”

 

Roman could do little to respond, only to respond with a ground out moan and try to please him as much as he could with his already softening member. He focused instead on simply using his hips to push the vibrator into him and jerking his cock with gusto. It was just enough, it appeared, because he came seconds later. It dripped down Roman's hand and wrist as Peter wrung out his own orgasm by using Roman's hand to thrust into. Roman pulled out almost immediately after this, disappointed by the fact that he barely got to feel him come from the inside. The vibration was starting to get painful after a point.

 

 

It was worse for Peter, it seemed. Moments after finally coming down he reached between his legs with a wince and yanked the still buzzing device from his insides. Roman noted just how much wetter that thing looked coming out than going in. Jesus, five seconds after sex and he was moderately disturbed by the thickness of the fluid that came along with the vibrator. He hoped that this shit didn't somehow suffocate their child on the way out. Peter didn't say much after this, only turned it off and quickly leapt out of bed to half limp into the bathroom. Roman cleaned himself up as best he could with the tissues on the bedside table and headed towards the door.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked through the door. Peter only mumbled out a reply, something Roman didn't hear very well. Knowing what he did next could be the death of him, he weighed the pros and cons and pushed his way into the bathroom. Peter was sitting on the toilet with one hand between his legs, glaring at him.

 

“Did I fucking say enter?” he asked.

 

“I don't know _what_ you said.”

 

“Well it wasn't 'come in, Roman', that's for sure,” he said, reaching beside him to pull off another roll of toilet paper to do the same thing.

 

“Well what did you say?” Roman asked, clearly starting to get irritated.

 

“I said I feel fucking gross.” he sighed, propping his elbow up on one thigh that he rested the side of his face on. “I shouldn't have let you do that.”

 

“I'm sorry...” Roman said, walking forward to lean against the sink. Close to him, but not close enough that it was weird. Roman knew he was just sitting there trying to clean himself up but it still felt weird. “I wasn't trying to upset you, you know that... I was just trying to help get you off.”

 

“I know, it's not your fault,” Peter admitted. “I'm pissed at myself, though. I said I didn't ever want to put anything up there again... _Especially_ after yesterday.”

 

“I mean...was it that bad?”

 

“It's the after effects that are bad. It's knowing this shit isn't normal and I shouldn't be using it for what I'm using it for.”

 

“How many people can say they have a portal to the inside of their dick and they _wouldn't_ see how that felt?”

 

“Shut up,” Peter mumbled, but it was with an almost undetectable laugh. “It's not a portal, I don't have a black hole under my dick. Can you get out though, seriously?”

 

“Alright,” Roman said with an exaggerated sigh. He made his way out into the main room and dug through the bag again to find something more presentable to wear. He settled on jeans and a button up, dressing quickly and then settling back onto the bed for a minute. He'd nearly fallen asleep when the sound of a siren blaring through the entire building's intercom jerked him from any semblance of rest. He could see orange flashing lights from beneath the door and immediately realized there was a problem.

 

He climbed out of bed and quickly rushed from the room to try to figure out what was going on. Of course, it was a mostly empty hallway with a blaring siren threatening to deafen him and the flashing of emergency lights on the ceiling. Where the fuck was everyone? He saw Pryce round the corner with four men carrying fairly large rifles of some sort. He headed towards him, a few feet from his door.

 

“What the fuck is happening?”

 

“You need to get back in your room, right now.” Pryce said with urgency. Before Roman could respond, one of the men next to him who appeared to be looking at a tablet, spoke.

 

“Sir, it's right above us.”

Pryce leaned over to look at the tablet and Roman watched the color drain from his face. There was a commotion somewhere above them, in one of the vents it seemed like. The grate loosened from the ceiling and slammed onto the floor with a clatter.

 

“Get back!” Pryce shouted, and Roman just barely had the chance to back-step before a flash of white fell from the ceiling. Crouched on all fours; well, wings and legs, was that white monstrosity from the containment center. He turned tail and ran back towards his room, hearing the thing screeching and clicking at him the whole way as it charged after him. Roman just barely slipped into the door and slammed it shut behind him when it pushed itself against the door.

 

“What the fuck is happening out there?” Peter asked, having evidently dressed and gone back to the bathroom momentarily, because he emerged from it as he entered.

 

“That fucking _thing_ is out there,” Roman panted. He heard a squealing shriek from the other side of the door and then silence. With this silence came the ceasing of alarm bells and flashing emergency lights. He waited for a few seconds more, then shot Peter a vague gesture that he'd be back and headed out into the hallway. The beast was lying there, face down and filled to the brim with tranq darts.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Roman hissed, advancing on Pryce with purpose. “What happened to it being safe here, Pryce? I put everyone I fucking love here thinking they were safe, and then this happens?”

 

“Roman...” Pryce responded, his expression baring that he would soon explain thing to Roman he thought he probably wouldn't understand. “This was a _highly_ anomalous event. Not to mention that it's escape only proves that there _is_ no danger.”

 

“How the fuck does that work?” Roman wasn't convinced, and his tone conveyed the anger and disbelief that he tried to hold back. No, he wasn't entirely holding back. He was letting Pryce know he was pissed, he was just stopping himself from punching him. “You're going to stand here and tell me we're safer because this thing got out? Bullshit, Pryce.”

 

“It proves that it has no interest in attacking humans. It knows it has a source of nutrition, it had the chance to attack dozens of people. It ignored them in favor of finding you.”

 

“That doesn't make things better!” Roman shouted, scarcely believing the audacity of the man. “I mean sure, it doesn't want to kill me. It doesn't want to kill _people_. But you saw what it did to Peter. He's not safe, I'm not safe. Fuck, I don't trust it around anyone. How did it get out?”

 

“It found a way to escape through the ventilation in the room...It will be fixed as soon as possible.”

 

Roman paced across the center of the room for a moment, his anxiety and irritation through the roof. He had a hand across the lower part of his face, gaze fixed to anyone but Pryce at the moment. He stopped and glared at him for a moment, pointing accusingly at him as he spoke. “I can't fucking trust you right now. I don't care if it was an accident. We're not _safe_ here. You know I've been running, trying to stay one step ahead of everything just to keep him safe. I can't stay here just because it was an _anomalous event_ ,” Roman mocked the last part.

 

“Where will you go, Roman?”

 

“I don't know,” he responded, sounding rattled. “Maybe she's fucking off our trail now. Trinity, maybe we can just get out of here.”

 

“I can't begin to explain to you all the reasons that's a bad idea, Roman. However, I can begin with this. We may never have another chance to chart the birth of your child. It is incredibly dangerous not knowing the due date. You must realize that.”

 

“I know, but-,”

 

“You're putting the very person you're trying to protect at risk by leaving. I can't, in good conscious, let you leave.”

 

“So, what, you're gonna hold us fucking hostage?”

 

“You don't have to stay here, Roman. It's obvious now that these creature have bypassed the area, other than that one. I think it's incredibly stupid for you to go somewhere else but if you must...Then I implore you to think logically about it. You have a home.”

 

“That's the first place that bitch will be looking for us.”

 

“Not to mention it's a bad idea to be seen driving that van. The both of you need to lay as low as humanly possible. It is, perhaps, not the best idea to do so in your place of work. So yes, I did tell you that you would be safe but I never told you it was a good idea.”

 

“So if we leave, what are we supposed to do? Come back here every day for those ultrasounds?”

 

“I can come to you.”

 

“Okay...I need to talk to Peter. Get that thing out of my sight.” Roman said, stalking back into their shared space. “We're not safe here anymore,” Roman said as he entered.

 

“I know, I heard...I might know where we can stay, though.”

 

“Where?”

 

“With Destiny, if she'll allow it. She doesn't want to be here anymore than I do. If you can convince Pryce to let her go...”

 

“How are we going to get there, though?”

 

Peter took in a hiss of breath through his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose at the question. It seemed he had a good answer but not one he liked.

 

“Andreas...He visits regularly. There'd be nothing irregular about him showing up and leaving, as long as no one sees us get in the car.”

 

“So what's the problem?”

 

“I did _not_ want him to know about this shit...”

 

“Right...” Roman mumbled. “Yeah, he's a lot to deal with, isn't he.”

 

“He is...but we don't have another choice.”

 

“Shit...This really fucks up everything. I told Shelley I was going to spend time with her, and I wanted to spend time with Nadia...How the fuck am I supposed to do that now?”

 

“I don't know about Shelley but I don't think Destiny would mind Nadia staying with us.”

 

“How...? Does she have any place to stay?”

 

“Destiny has a bassinet. A pretty fucking big one.”

 

“That's...why?”

 

“She keeps it around for the whole midwifery bullshit. Sometimes women come to her house instead of her going to theirs and they stick around for a while.”

 

“Convenient...”

“I'll go talk to her if you'll pack shit up.”

 

 

Peter was gone before Roman even had the chance to respond. Feeling slightly gross, though dressed he felt somewhat dirty. With the knowledge of such bizarre erotic acts they'd done just moments prior while he made his way to speak to his cousin. It wasn't just the knowledge, but the fact that his groin still felt achy and like it hadn't actually stopped vibrating for twenty minutes. It was annoying. Not to mention the fresh set of bite marks on his neck. He tried to remember where she was, knowing she wasn't too far from them. He recognized the door number as he very nearly passed it, turning quickly and very nearly slipping realizing he'd forgotten to put on shoes and socks on these floors was a deathtrap. He knocked once or twice before heading in. She was groggy and sitting in bed on her phone, clad in knee length socks, Adidas shorts and a loose tank top.

 

“Peter? Are you okay, what happened out there?”

 

“I'm fine but...some shit's happened and we can't stay here anymore.”

 

“You're leaving? Peter, you really should stay. You can't just take off not knowing how long you have left.”

 

“I can't stay _here._ But I was hoping you'd come with me and let Roman and I...and Nadia, maybe, stay with you. I don't want to be hanging out at your house without you home.”

 

“Surprising I've been allowed to leave,” Destiny said sarcastically.

 

“He's only doing it because of Roman, and if Roman wants you out of here then he'll let you go.”

 

“You know Andreas is there, right?”

 

“I do...and he's part of the plan, actually. As much as I hate it.”

 

“Well maybe you should tell me this plan.”

 

“Pryce doesn't want us driving the van because people might know it's ours. So I guess he's going to take it or something until we leave. Andreas shows up here all the time to visit, right? So it wouldn't look suspicious for him to come and go, as long as no one sees us leave.”

 

“That sounds like a pretty solid plan, honestly...But what about the tests?”

 

“From what I heard...he plans to visit each day.”

“That part sounds a lot _less_ solid.”

 

“Yeah, I know but it's either I come back here every day or he comes there. Either way looks fuckin' weird.”

 

“And you want Nadia to come?”

 

“He wants to spend time with her before he has to leave...”

 

“I don't mind. And it's good practice for Andreas when he finally puts a baby in me.”

 

Peter gave a slight snort of laughter and turned towards the door. He needed to go talk to Roman about this.

 

“Talk to Andreas and let him know what's going on. I need to tell Roman...”

 

“Okay, I'll pack my things while I'm at it...And Peter?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Tell that vampire to lay off your neck, it's excessive.”

 

Peter turned away before she could see the light blush that crept across his skin, scoffing and reaching up to cover it with his hand. Though there wasn't much covering as it was pretty extensive. He headed back to Roman, who had just finished talking to Pryce about their plan. He seemed incredibly on edge, like he was about to snap any minute. When Pryce finally left them he seemed to calm down a bit.

 

“Destiny said it's fine,” Peter said, settling next to him and keeping his voice quiet. He was trying to stop from riling Roman back up.

 

“I need to talk to Shelley...Everything's packed, do you want to come? She wanted to see you before we left.”

 

“Shame I couldn't have seen her longer.”

 

“I feel like such an asshole...I'm taking almost everyone out of here for safety but I'm leaving her here. I mean, Pryce says it's safe...it probably _won't_ go after her but how hypocritical is that?” Roman said as they headed to her room. “But where the fuck would I take her? She can't go back to Olivia's, she can't stay with us...I've seen Destiny's place, it'll probably barely fit us.”

 

“You're not a hypocrite... I mean you sure as fuck can be but you have your reasons, here.”

 

“When the fuck have I ever been a hypocrite?”

 

“A lot,” Peter chuckled. “Come on, man you know it.”

 

“I'm going to leave your ass here,” Roman grumbled.

 

“Awesome, I'll get free food and shit.”

 

Roman suddenly put an arm around his lower back and pulled him close to him. With an exaggerated sigh he spoke, and Peter knew he was full of shit. Roman knew he was, too.

 

“Then I guess I'll just have to keep me with you for the sake of inconveniencing you.”

 

“Uh-huh...” Peter responded. A mumbled and sarcastic annoyance.

 

 

They arrived at Shelley's room and Roman knocked once before entering, dragging Peter in with him. She smiled at first but noticed that Roman didn't quite look happy, and her smile faltered.

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

“Technically...but we need to leave.” Roman said plaintively. “I know I said I'd spend more time with you, but...things have happened and we need to take Nadia and stay at Destiny's for a few days.”

 

“It's okay, Roman.” Shelley said with a sad smile. “As long as you're both okay.”

 

“You really are too nice...” Roman mumbled.

 

“Maybe I can come visit somehow? If it's okay,” Shelley said.

 

“Yeah, Pryce is going to be coming over every day for testing. Maybe you can convince him to let you have short visits if nothing else.”

 

“I'll ask him when I see him next,” Shelley clarified. But she soon turned her attention to Peter. “Are you excited?”

 

It took a minute for Peter to realize what she was asking until she was talking about the fact that he was pregnant.

 

“Um...yeah,” he said nervously. “But I'm also scared. She's already kicking my ass.”

 

“You're having a girl?”

 

“Apparently. They told me yesterday.”

 

“That's so strange,” she said with a smile. “I can barely even tell you're pregnant.”

 

“You can tell...?”

 

“If I didn't already know I might overlook it...but in that shirt at least I can see.”

 

 

Peter hadn't noticed at first how tight that shirt was beginning to feel. It was one he could usually wear and get away with hiding his stomach, but he hadn't worn it in a while. It didn't feel overly tight but he noticed that it felt more form fitting than it usually did. At this realization he crossed his arms over his middle, and muttered an almost embarrassed 'Oh' in response.

 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel self conscious.”

 

“It's not you,” Peter said quietly. “I'm just used to hiding it. I didn't know anyone could see.” In reality it kind of freaked him out. He hadn't seen anyone make a comment about it while he was wearing clothes.

 

“She's right, actually...” Roman said, looking him over. Peter made an annoyed scoffing noise and elbowed him in the ribs.

 

“Ugh, shut up.”

 

Peter felt his phone buzz in his pocket and pulled his arms away from his middle to investigate. It was a text from Destiny saying Andreas was on his way. He alerted Roman to this who seemed to remember what they were doing there in the first place. They needed to get Nadia. It was all happening faster than Peter had anticipated. He didn't know Andreas would be so eager to come get them.

 

Shelley helped him gather some supplies in a diaper bag that she kept by Nadia's crib. Apparently she didn't stay confined to the room 24/7. Thankfully the bag was fairly large and could pack quite a bit of supplies. Roman slung the bag over his shoulder and gathered Nadia from her crib, cradling her mostly with the arm that wasn't compromised by extra weight. She fussed momentarily until she settled against his chest. They bid Shelley a final farewell and made their way back to their room. Peter immediately pulled on his jacket in an attempt to hide himself. He heard Roman give out an annoyed sigh and Peter turned to find him weighing his options on ow to carry literally everything at once.

 

“Roman, just give me the bag and the baby.”

 

“Are you sure?” Roman asked, glancing between bags.

 

“I'm not going to fall apart, come on.”

 

Roman resigned and hesitantly handed Peter Nadia and the bag. Roman chuckled at something before gathering up the rest of the luggage.

 

“What the hell is so funny?”

 

“If you were bigger she could sit on your stomach. Almost though, right?”

 

“Are you calling me fat, you piece of shit?”

 

“No,” Roman defended, though he couldn't help but laugh. “It isn't fat...”

 

“You're lucky I'm holding your daughter or I'd beat your ass.”

 

“Sorry,” Roman said insincerely.

 

They made their way to Destiny's room, and with every step Peter felt his insides being assaulted. From the minute he picked up Nadia his own daughter thought it was a good time to destroy his organs.

 

“You alright?” Roman asked, slowing down to walk next to him.

 

“Sibling rivalry,” Peter muttered, rearranging Nadia to hold her against his hip so he could hold his abdomen with his free hand.

 

“Really?” Roman asked, his brown furrowed in concern.

 

“She started kicking when I picked up Nadia.”

 

“Maybe you should give her back to me.”

“You're carrying as much as a pack mule, I'm fine.”

 

“It looks like she's hurting you...”

 

“The biggest problem is that she keeps kicking me in the bladder. It doesn't feel good.”

 

“You're not going to piss yourself again, are you?”

 

“Fuck off,” Peter scoffed. “That was once.”

 

“Yeah but it probably won't be the last.”

 

“Keep it up, Roman. I'll piss on _you_.”

 

“Kinky,” Roman smirked. Peter could only roll his eyes and feel a burning eternal shame for the type of dude he'd chosen to shack up with.

 

By the time they got to Destiny's room Peter felt like he was going to throw up. He knew he didn't have to use the bathroom but the constant harassment was making the false urge so great it was making him sick to his stomach. Destiny chastised him as soon as she saw him.

 

“Why are you carrying that bag? You shouldn't be doing any heavy lifting.”

 

“It's like two pounds.”

 

“Give me that,” Destiny harped, taking it from him before he could protest. She gathered her own bag and threw it over her shoulder.

 

“Are you okay? You don't look good.”

 

“I'm being kicked to death. It has nothing to do with weight.” Destiny frowned and let out a displeased humming noise.

 

“Do you want me to hold her?”

 

“No, even though it seems like they're fighting before she's even born.”

 

She looked like she wanted to convince him to give up Nadia but she faltered. He could see the cogs turning in her brain to just let it go. With a defeated but quiet sigh she moved on.

 

“Andreas is going to pull up to the back of the building. He's going to put the bags in the trunk and then you two can get in. Pryce is going to delete some of the security footage so that you were never here. He said he and Doctor Warren should be over each day and if anyone asks, they're monitoring _my_ difficult pregnancy that they started with here.” 

 

“You're pregnant?” Roman asked, and Peter knew the minute he asked he regretted it, and that it had been purely an instantaneous reaction. 

 

“No, Roman, it's a cover,” Destiny responded incredulously. 

 

“I know, it was a knee jerk reaction...When did you have the chance to talk to Pryce?” 

 

“While you were getting Nadia. He's the one who suggested Andreas pull up at the back. Shouldn't we get going? It shouldn't take him long to get here.” 

 

“Yes, come on. I'll show you the way.” 

 

“I hope...” Destiny muttered. 

 

Peter already felt the awkward tension between Destiny and Roman, and he didn't know how he was going to survive however long they were staying with the two of them just minutes from each others throats. It wasn't so much Roman as much as it was Destiny. Truth be told Roman might actually be a little scared of her. When they were in the elevator, Peter shifted Nadia to his shoulder in some desperate attempt to get his daughter to stop kicking him. He wondered if maybe somehow she sensed her older sister and was desperate to get to her, but that didn't make much sense. His second question was if it had anything to do with her being upir but that, too, didn't make much sense considering Roman was an upir and they were frequently very close. 

 

It was like she was having a damn party in there. Rolling, elbowing, kicking, playing the goddamn vuvuzela. It truly would help him, he thought, if he wasn't holding Nadia so that maybe he could shift to a more comfortable position. However, he didn't want to admit defeat. He'd at least hold her until he got in the car. Andreas was waiting for them when they got to the door, or rather the car was. Destiny rushed outside and quickly ushered him back in, putting her own bags in the trunk. Andreas didn't say much when he entered, only took the bags from them and put them in the trunk. Destiny must have told him how important it was they leave quickly and quietly. When everything was packed, the two of them rushed out the door and slid into the back seat. The shift in position seemed to make the baby more irritated, and she rolled and kicked him as close to in the stomach as possible. He let out a muffled groan and folded over on himself seconds after he'd handed Nadia to Roman. Clutching his stomach and leaning his head on the back of the headrest. Destiny got in before he did, on the tail end of his expressions of discomfort, and turned around to run her hand down his shoulder soothingly and sympathetically. 

 

“Is she still kicking?” she asked quietly. Andreas apparently didn't know everything yet. 

 

“Yes...” 

 

“She's really kicking that hard?” 

 

Peter didn't really want to answer her again, so he leaned back in his seat and yanked his shirt up far enough for her to see. He winced when she visibly rolled in his abdomen again and pushed one hand out as far as it would go. He'd never actually seen it himself but to see it like this was pretty unsettling. 

 

“Holy shit,” Roman mumbled. He quickly pulled his shirt back down but even afterwards, if he looked close enough, he could still see it. 

 

“Does that answer you?” 

 

“I can't believe she can kick that hard and be that small...” 

 

“It looks like a scene from Alien,” Roman said, reaching down lay his hand over Peter's in what was most likely a purely instinctual form of comfort. 

 

“It about fucking feels like it.” 

 

Andreas finally got back in the car and started it, staying silent until he began to drive off. Peter groaned internally as he did so. Andreas was...Andreas. Peter was tired and feeling like shit, and he was a little too upbeat for Peter's liking at the moment. 

 

“Peter, you dog. Where the hell have you been? You get out of trouble yet?” he asked with a laugh. “What'd you do? Grift the wrong person, romance the wrong girl? Looks like you've definitely been getting some action, huh?” He made a gesture towards his neck at this, and Peter shot Roman a glare so intense it could melt ice. He looked back at him sympathetically and clutched his hand a little tighter. 

 

“If only it was that simple.” 

 

“Yeah, I guess that wouldn't explain why you've been hiding out at the dick of Hemlock Grove and not with us.” 

 

“I'm a wanted man, Andreas,” Peter said almost sarcastically. Though it was true, he said it in a way that sounded like a joke. 

 

“Yeah, I got that. How wanted, though?” there was silence for a moment before he responded again. Destiny seemed both amused and very sad for Peter. “Shit, d'you kill someone?” 

 

“Technically...?” Peter mumbled. Yeah, he'd killed people, but he definitely wasn't on the run for that. 

 

“Seriously, Peter?” Destiny hissed. 

 

“You were there, Dee...” 

 

The ride seemed to be taking far too long, and there were far too many stoplights. The continuous movement in his abdomen, the movement of the car, and the smell of whatever cologne Andreas happened to be wearing was not helping his nausea. He leaned his head against the back of the seat again in an attempt to quell this churning in his body but it did little to help. His mouth felt far too wet and by the time he realized he was probably going to puke he was too afraid to open his mouth in fear that it would open any and all floodgates currently stopping it. 

 

“Peter...?” Roman said quietly, making sure no one heard him. Peter wasn't very responsive, only gripped Roman's hand and started counting thread fibers in the car, hoping it would just _stop_. Roman was apparently used to what preceded his vomiting spells and was thankfully able to tell Andreas to stop. 

 

“Hey, stop the car.” Roman commanded. 

 

“Where? You need to go to get some snacks or something...?” 

 

“Just pull over, Jesus Christ.” 

 

Andreas hesitantly pulled off to the side and Peter was reminded of the first time this had happened, and how he'd felt so annoyed with Roman having to explain what 'Stop' meant. How the tables had turned. The second he was stopped enough, Peter pushed the door open as quickly as he could to lean out the side and dry heave for several seconds. It hurt, and it was slow to start. He could scarcely breath before and after painting the sidewalk with bile Once again the child within him protested but he could only ignore it. He was grateful for Roman's hand running up his back. He was out there for what felt like several minutes but between gasping heaves he heard Andreas say something to Destiny, and her response being, “There's some stuff I need to talk to you about, later.” 

Annoyed as Peter was that he was going to end up knowing his business there was nothing he could do about it now. He could only finish up and then drag himself back into the car. He was hot, panting slightly and sweating. Andreas drove on without another word and Roman kept his 

hand secretly grasping his, away from prying eyes.

 

Getting in seemed to be a lot less dangerous than getting out. They pulled up close to the door and both Andreas and Roman helped get the bags in while Destiny held Nadia, with her insistence to do so given his state. Peter was too tired to argue. He was glad that Andreas didn't bring it up, either. Once everything was inside, Destiny helped to set up the bassinet in the spare bedroom and Peter proceded to exist only in body, not in spirit. All the movement, pain, and vomiting had made him no better than a zombie. He was tired. 

 

“Lay down, Peter.” Destiny said, setting Nadia in the bassinet. “That's an order.” 

 

“What are you, my drill sergeant?” Peter mumbled, kicking his shoes off and doing as she asked despite the fact that he was giving her sit. 

 

“I will be if I need to. Get some rest, seriously. You look like Hell.” 

 

“Thanks...” Peter muttered as he cast off his jacket and climbed under the blankets. I felt like Heaven to him at the moment. Soft, warm, smelling of Gain and potpourri. 

 

“You're welcome.” 

 

Destiny left him alone and it didn't take Peter long to fall asleep. After all, he'd been awaken quite early by that horrible and and incessant boner. Yes, he deserved sleep, and to sleep he came to the backdrop of soft gurgles from the bassinet and Destiny speaking in the other room. However unsafe he was, for the moment he felt at ease. To finally hear his own family speaking in the other room and not some drugged out crack whore. Despite the noise it put him at ease, and allowed him to slip finally into sleep with that knowledge of familial security. 

 

 

_**Art:** _

 

Roman finally getting to touch Peter from the last chapter. I realized too late that Peter is practically shoving him off the bed even though there's room lol **_  
_**

 

 

_**ART LINKS (Containing mpreg)** _

 

[ _**Peter in his slightly too tight shirt** _ ](https://i.gyazo.com/811e18b87d919f06e95111a4ef71d90a.png)

 

_**[The pic Destiny took more or less from a few chaps ago ](https://i.gyazo.com/644169ed56549ad874278b783f4ff1c0.png) ** _

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I really don't know how to write andreas I never really paid attention to him


	23. Special Delivery, Return To Sender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there comes a time in 90% of the chapters i write in this fic that i say 'am i really about to write this, and am i really gonna make people read this' and 90% of the time, i say yes
> 
> and this is one of those times
> 
> so, i'm sorry about this chapter. it's gross. 
> 
> but i kept it as vague and humorous as i could in the parts i thought might be the grossest
> 
> and thank the people who have stuck with me, through all the really weird gross shit i write because I DO KNOW and i do feel bad but i do it anyway
> 
> anyway, theres art at the end but it's nothing spectacular

Andreas had left soon after they got there, seemingly to meet up with some people. It didn't give Destiny the chance to talk to him other than tell him to make sure no one knew Peter was in town. It had given Roman time alone with Destiny, and he intended to try to talk to her no matter how much he felt it might fuck things up. This was interrupted by the fact that soon after he left he heard Nadia fussing from the guest bedroom. He quickly made his way to the bedroom to check on her, and it seemed as though all in all she just wanted attention as she stopped as soon as he entered. Peter seemed relatively perturbed by it and rolled over fitfully in his sleep, so he took the source of noise from the bedroom and into the living room. Destiny was at the island in the kitchen, busied with something else entirely on her phone. Roman knew he shouldn't say anything but the urge was strong, and however stupid it may have been he opened his mouth.

 

“Do you think you should really tell Andreas about this?”

 

“I don't know...I think he'll find out eventually.”

 

“But do you trust him?”

 

“Of course I trust him. Are you telling me I shouldn't trust my own boyfriend?”

 

“Honestly? Yes.”

 

Destiny let out a scoff, pocketing her phone and standing from the island to saunter over to him. There was determination in her step despite how casual it seemed.

 

“Frankly, Roman, I don't know how much I should trust you.”

 

“When are you going to stop this?” Roman asked, jaw clenched in anger and the need to keep his voice down.

 

“You came in here and started shit talking my boyfriend.”

 

“It's because I'm worried about Peter.”

 

“So what, you've never said _anything_ to anyone about Peter?”

 

“The people I've told aren't in connection to massive fucking groups. Don't you know what he was doing the night that Peter found out he couldn't turn?”

 

“I don't know, that's none of my business. Why should I be asking him what he's doing every night?”

 

“He told Peter to throw himself in front of a semi, so that he could steal the truck and sell it to someone.”

 

“What...?” Destiny asked, sitting down on the couch in front of him to stare him down. “You're full of shit.”

 

“Am I? You read minds, don't you, or something like that? Tell me I'm lying.”

“I don't just _read minds._ You know what my problem is with you, Roman? I know what you are. I know what you can be. I don't have much family left and Peter is important to me. You knocked him up with something that shouldn't exist and drug him all over the fucking continent.”

 

“I'm doing the best I can!” Roman shouted, instantly regretting it when Nadia let out an unhappy whine. He quickly quieted himself and focused his attention on calming her down, which luckily she did so quickly. Settled against his chest and clutching onto his shirt with one hand, sucking on the fabric for God knows what reason other than the fact that she was an infant. At least it was clean. “I only gave him what he asked for. Okay, you're right, I don't know much about werewolves. But when I came home and found him that day I was afraid that he was going to get lost, and that if I didn't help him he wouldn't come back. I _needed_ him back, Destiny. I didn't know about this estrus shit at all. I didn't know that if I didn't fuck him he might have been fine, or he might have not.”

 

“Roman...I'm trying,” Destiny said with a defeated sigh. “But you have to realize that this...this is big, okay? I mean, you two really went against the laws of nature and I have no idea what I'm up against, to get this thing out. That scares me. It scares me and it pisses me off. It pisses me off because it was _you_ who did it. If it was any other upir I'd be pissed at them too. And your mother. Look at your mother, do you think she was always like this? Do you think you won't somehow go down the same path?”

 

“I'm nothing like my mother,” Roman almost whispered, strangled and shaking because he wanted so badly to yell at her.

 

“It's in your blood.”

 

“I'm not. My mother,” he hissed. “I would rather die before I let that happen. I don't give a shit about some family legacy, or power, or whatever the fuck it is she thinks she is. That's not me. And you know, I fucking hate what I am. I wish I would have never stopped those treatments but I can't go back now. I don't need you to sit here and tell me what a bad person I am because I fucking know. But I'm trying.”

 

“You're not a _bad_ person,” Destiny mumbled. “I know you love Peter, and I know he loves you too. I think he's always loved you, he just didn't know it. That's what makes his so hard. The two of you think you're good for each other but I look at you, and I see all the bad things that might happen. It scares the shit out of me. You two are supposed to hate each other. That's how it's always been. You keep to your own, you don't cross paths. You _don't_ breed. Peter's run into your kind before and it could have been the last time. That's hundreds of years of history that the two of you just fucked up, and I don't know where you go from here. ”

 

“Can't you read my future, and tell me then, where the fuck I go from here? If you're so afraid?”

“I can't. It's the same reason I can't read your mind. People, I can read, but not upirs. Your mind is guarded. It's like a supernatural barrier that stops me from seeing. I could only read it before because you hadn't turned yet.”

 

“Can you read Peter's?”

 

“I can...but not well. I only see some things. Like I knew that you were going to get into a lot of shit. I thought it was Miranda and Nadia, but then this happened. I don't know if that's all of it.”

 

“Destiny...” Roman started, muffling a sigh as he put his hand over his mouth for a moment. Dragging it down, he continued. “I don't want to fight you. I know I can't have Peter if we're always at each other's throats. I do love him...and I want to do everything I can for him. Even if what I can do is shit...” he stalled. “You know where I come from. You know what I'm used to. I gave all of that up for him. I've been bitten and beaten, I spend half my nights in the back of a van or a motel. I'm fucking _exhausted_ but I did it for him. I'm fucking terrified. I have no idea what I'm doing, or what's going to happen after this baby is born. I don't even know what the fuck to feed it, but I have to keep going.”

 

“That last part doesn't exactly help your case,” Destiny mumbled.

 

“Yeah, I know it doesn't, that part was more for me.”

 

She sighed, adjusting herself on the couch and averting her gaze. Roman could tell he was looking guilty. It's not like he wanted to make her feel guilty but he felt like this was a win. When she spoke again it was almost like she was changing the subject but not entirely.

 

“What plans do you have?”

 

“I don't know...I thought, you know...getting the R.V would help. The whole Order isn't' after us, but now my mother is. It's probably not as good as a plan as I thought. It's mobile, sure, but who the fuck is going to be able to drive if we get into trouble? If she finds us, we're screwed. I don't know how to drive a fucking R.V, and you can't if you're elbow deep in Peter's crotch trying to get the baby out.”

 

“You know that's not how babies are born, right?”

 

“I know, I was being sarcastic, fuck. I'm not stupid.”

 

Destiny laughed, and he couldn't help but laugh some too. She stopped soon after and regained her seriousness.

 

“An R.V might not work, then. You're right, I can't drive it if I'm delivering a baby. I _also_ don't know how to drive an R.V.”

 

“I haven't told Peter this, but...” he stalled briefly when Nadia very nearly managed to unbutton his entire shirt by pulling on it. He adjusted her so that she wasn't pulling at his buttons so much, which she found annoying to begin with but settled to just sit on his lap and lean against his torso. He kept her supported enough with one arm but he was realizing that wouldn't be possible for very much longer. She really was getting bigger... Distracted as he was by his daughter he remembered he was actually saying something. “I've been looking at houses. Not to live in but to...sort of serve as a place for us to go. Really remote locations, kind of a pain in the ass to get to. The problem is, it can't be in our name...it'd have to be in yours. I was hoping maybe around the last month I..or maybe Peter, could convince you to stay there for a while. It might be a pain in the ass but you wouldn't need to worry about food or bills because I'd find a way to wire you the money. Fuck, you can keep the house after that, I don't care. Make it a summer home or something.”

 

“Are you seriously just...offering me a house?” Destiny asked, as though she couldn't understand the concept.

 

“In return for a big favor...”

 

“Yeah, but it's a _house_ , Roman. Why wouldn't you move there? I hate to say it but you guys really need to find a new place to settle down after all this is over. There's too much bullshit here.”

 

“I don't know...I'd thought about it. But I have to think about the company, too. And Pryce...He's the one who keeps me fed. I can't afford to move too far away. Where I'm looking at isn't _too_ far but it's a good ...four hour distance.”

 

“I don't know, Roman...do you have any in mind?”

 

“There's a house I've been looking at...it's not very big, but I think it gets the job done. It's up in the mountains, gated all around with concrete and a barbwire fence. Security cameras, keypad gate entry...The only thing that worries me is that she's putting the house up for sale now but can't vacate the house for a few months.”

 

“Why does she need all that security...?” Destiny asked with a dose of suspicion. It wasn't relevant so much, but Roman had an answer.

 

“I got in touch with her, actually. With a throw away e-mail. I asked about the security and if she'd be able to move sooner, she mentioned that it was because of her husband. Said he's always been incredibly paranoid, but he's got cancer. He doesn't have long but she doesn't want to sign over the house until he's gone, after she's got his affairs in order. Apparently it was his wish that she got out of that house when he was gone because he knew it wasn't what she wanted. I didn't ask her any of this shit but I guess she just wanted to talk to someone.”

 

“That's...Jesus. Sad, but also kind of suspicious.”

 

“Look..it's not my business if what she's doing is weird. I just need the house. I know it's cutting it close but it's the best chance I've found so far.”

 

“You'd better just hope that it matches up close enough to the due date. I'll do it...” she said, though it seemed she wasn't completely happy with the idea. “So what, I just drive up there?”

 

“If I can, I'll find you an escort of some sort...I know that those things are still out there but it's isolated enough that you should be safe, if you take back roads. Most of it's rural anyway so there's not a lot of people to attract them.”

 

“I'll just drive...whenever. Escorts are too suspicious.”

 

 

Roman was about to retort when he realized, once again, Nadia had been falling asleep and was irritated by all the noise and movement. Silently, he excused himself from the room and carried her carefully into the guest bedroom, placing her back in the bassinet and doing all he could to stop her from fussing. He waited until she had fallen asleep well enough before sneaking back into the living room again. He collapsed back onto the couch, now void of any children on his lap, realizing just how tired he felt but he was tying to give Peter his space. It seemed exhaustion was finally catching up to him again.

 

“I'm still worried about those...things,” Roman said, resuming his original conversation despite the interruption.

 

“What?” Destiny asked, having not been paying too much attention. Something seemed to be holding her attention on her phone; she seemed annoyed by something.

 

“What I was talking about earlier...” Roman mumbled. Jesus Christ, he was fucking tired.

 

“Oh, right...” but she ignored him for the most part after that. Her attention was elsewhere, and Roman leaned his head back for just a minute and let out a steady, low sigh as he closed his eyes. He needed a second...just a second. Unbeknownst to him it didn't end up being a second at all.

 

 

It was a good few hours later when Peter finally woke up. It was a slow and disorienting ascent into consciousness, and that disorientation never truly left him for the first few minutes. Sitting up brought him a rush of dizziness, the room appeared to be spinning and he was incredibly confused until he realized the sudden and intense, gnawing hunger in his stomach. He knew that kind of hunger, knew the kind of dizziness that came with it. There was no pain, he just knew he was famished. He attempted to stop the world from spinning, holding his hand to his forehead and letting out a strangled sigh of annoyance and general ill feeling. He knew what he had to do, he knew what it would bring for him; the danger, the sickness, the intense intestinal distress. He could do without all of this, but he knew the longer he waited the more dangerous it would be. He crawled out of bed, stumbling into the hallway and into the living room to find Destiny coming back from the kitchen with her phone in hand, only looking up when she finally noticed he was there, jumping slightly. For a moment she looked...disappointed.

 

“Are you okay?” Peter croaked out, clearing his throat afterwards trying to will his voice to cooperate further.

 

“Yeah, I'm fine.” she said dismissively. She avoided eye contact for a moment, looking up at him again finally as she opened her mouth to speak but couldn't seem to find the words. “Roman said some shit earlier, and I...I've just been thinking a lot about it. Did you...” she stalled, then seemed to drop whatever path she'd been going on. “Never mind, forget it. Are you alright?”

 

Peter wanted to ask her what she was going to say, but he didn't have the energy to get into that right now. He looked towards the couch to find Roman sleeping and he hated that he'd have to wake him, but with a tone that was full of exhaustion and mild discomfort he responded.

 

“I need him,” Peter said simply. He leaned against the wall, again holding his head to quell the dizzying sensations starting to wash over him. “I mean I need...his help. I'm fucking hungry again and he's the only person I trust to do it. I mean, to give me the blood. Fuck, sorry, I can't think straight...” he wasn't making a lot of sense, he knew that. His sentences were mixed up and scrambled it felt like.

 

“I could try-,”

 

“No.” Peter said, stopping her in her tracks. “No, Destiny. I could kill you. I can't kill him.” If Peter ever hurt him again he knew it would tear him up inside but he knew that even if he hurt him, Roman would still be there to mend these wounds. If he attacked Destiny she might not make it out quite as well. If he killed her he'd never be able to live with himself.

 

 

He crossed the room in silence, coming to stand in front of the couch where Roman was passed out as Hell on the edge, looking to be sleeping in possibly one of the most uncomfortable positions for his neck but that was not Peter's concern. He reached down to grab his hand, to try to wake him up. It worked, and he woke with a start, blinking blearily at his surroundings and trying to regain any sense of consciousness.

 

“You okay?” he asked, sitting up and looking up at him more level. Even sitting, Roman was still stupid tall.

 

“I need the stuff...” Peter mumbled. “I'm sorry.”

 

“Okay,” Roman said softly, and with a stretch he pulled himself off the couch, still standing and pulling Peter by the arm to force him back down onto the couch. “Hold on, let me figure out how to do this.”

 

 

 

Even sleep addled Roman knew just how important this was, how little time he might have and what kind of preparations he had to make. He made his way quickly to Destiny, telling her to find him something to tie him up with before he made his way into the bedroom. He didn't give her a chance to ask him to explain himself, and he really hoped that she'd just do as he asked. It was always something that scared him, every time he needed to feed. Not just because of what he'd done to his neck but what happened the first time they realized he needed blood. He was never sure how long they had before organ failure would become an issue, so he dug through the bag, to get to the cooler he'd packed at the bottom. Well, it was more that clothes were all packed around the cooler itself. Hands shaking slightly, pulling out one of the flasks and standing to head out of the room. Destiny was there at the door before he could get out, holding what appeared to be a rope. She didn't look happy about the whole thing but she gave him what he asked for.

 

“You're going to tie him up?” she asked, annoyed. “Couldn't you just let him take it himself?”

 

“He's really fucking dangerous,” Roman said, taking the rope from her, restrained annoyance in his tone. “Neither of us know what he could do if he wasn't tied up. I mean, you see this shit,” he said, gesturing towards his neck. The stitches were gone but the remnants were still obvious. “He did that shit.”

 

 

He pushed past her, leaving her to look after him with a mix of anger, pity, and worry. He saw it in her gaze as he glanced back at her just briefly before leading Peter into the bathroom. He should've asked, probably, if he could tie Peter to her sink on the floor but he was going to take matters into his own hands. Peter knew immediately what the plan was, sitting in front of the sink and leaning against it with a kind of exhaustion that just looking at it made Roman feel tired.

 

“I'm sorry,” Roman said, kneeling down, rope in hand and pinning his wrists to the sides of the sink. He wrapped it around the center, where it jutted away from the wall just enough that he could get his hands behind and secure the knot. “I have to leave you.”

 

“I know,” Peter said understandingly. “I'll call for you.”

 

 

Roman undid the cap with one hand, gripping onto Peter's jaw with the other to tilt his head up. He was almost boneless in his grip, so willing a participant to be manipulated like this. He tipped the flask into his mouth, pouring it down his throat and watching him grimace slightly as he did so. It didn't take him long to drink it down, and Roman thought that he was okay to pull his hand away. He thought that he had time, that Peter would take a minute to really start being effected. Letting go of his head with the one hand, he pulled the one holding the flask away. Faster than he had time to react, he felt a sharp pain radiating through the place between his thumb and forefinger. He dropped the flask with a clatter in shock and realized he'd been bitten, and was still being bitten. Peter had surged forward and bitten him on the hand quicker than he ever had reacted to the blood before. The only thing he could think to do at the moment, though once he did he regretted it, was to reach behind him and grab him hard by the hair, yanking him off with a sickening pop. He let out a low and ragged breath when Roman's hand was not in his mouth, practically snarling at him.

 

 

The look on his face was so intimidating. There was nothing behind his eyes but hunger and feral rage. He'd seen it before he just hadn't seen it this quickly. Roman held his injured hand behind his back, standing in a hunched posture while he kept Peter held down by the hair so that he couldn't reach anything. When he let go he quickly stepped backwards, throwing that hand up so that he couldn't reach that either. Peter had surged forward again, attempting to reach him, but luckily was stopped. Still, as Roman backed away and kept his eye on him, Peter's eyes followed him with such malice and hunger he was no more than an animal angered to lose his prey. It sent a shiver down his spine, and he felt relief to no longer see him after he'd closed the door.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Destiny said the minute she saw him. He hadn't immediately registered why, until the feeling of wet warmth dripping down his skin made itself known. She quickly grabbed him by the arm and lead him towards the kitchen just as he'd realized how much blood he was dripping onto the floor.

 

“It's not that bad,” Roman protested.

 

“I just don't want you getting blood all over the floor,” Destiny said, and Roman relented by letting lukewarm water run over his hand until it stopped bleeding. He watched in a mild, morbid fascination as red turned to a pale, pinkish orange, swirling in patterns down the sink until there was nothing. He almost didn't hear Destiny because of how distracted he was.

 

“Is he going to be okay?” Destiny asked, and he found it amusing that he had huge bite marks on either side of his hand and she was worried about the person who bit him. It was fine, of course. Roman knew he was fine, Destiny did too, but he knew Peter wouldn't be.

 

“No...” Roman said, shutting the water off and flinging the droplets into the sink, turning and unceremoniously wiping the rest of it onto his pants. “I mean...he'll get over it, but he's going to be really sick again. It's like...” he lost the word for a moment, searching for it in his head. “Food poisoning.”

 

“Do you ever give him anything for it...?”

 

“I mean, no...I've never really thought about it but the last two times it's happened we weren't really in the position to ask. We just accepted it. Especially since Peter is adamant about not talking about it...”

 

“Here,” Destiny said, digging through one of the drawers behind him and tossing him a bottle of Imodium. “But there's probably a reason that happens. Taking this might make it worse. Tell him that before he takes it, see if the risks outweigh the rewards.”

 

If on cue, he heard Peter call for him in the bathroom and for a split second he feared that this was some new trick that his more bestial nature had created, to get him in there so that he could eat him. How horrible was it, even if the notion was so ludicrous, that he was afraid of his own lover? He knew his fears were practically impossible but that didn't stop them from creeping into the back of his mind. He made his way wordlessly back to the bathroom and found him looking tired and annoyed. As he knelt in front of him and reached behind the sink to undo the knot, Peter apparently noticed the mark on his hand.

 

“What happened to your hand...?” he asked, though Roman could tell by his voice some part of him knew.

 

“You did...” Roman mumbled, yanking the knot free, leaving Peter to roll his shoulders in discomfort as it gave way.

 

“Jesus Christ, it gets worse every time.”

 

“No, this isn't worse than last time.” Not wanting to stay on the subject, knowing how Peter truly felt about it, he reached into his pocket where he'd put the bottle and held it up. “Do you want to take these?”

 

“Did you talk to her about this...?” Peter asked, annoyed but curious.

 

“I was vague, but she offered. She said it might make it worse, though. Like there's probably a reason your body tries to instantly purge this stuff, so...take at your own risk, I guess.”

 

Peter took the bottle from him, examining it briefly and standing shakily to clutch at the sink in an attempt to steady himself. Roman rose to lay a hand on his back, just there in case he fell.

 

“It's better than the alternative,” To Roman's surprise, Peter had no qualms about simply taking the pill dry, even though watching him made his throat burn knowing just how hard those pills were to swallow.

 

 

It was, of course, uncomfortable to Peter but he had more pressing matters at hand. He had to _actually_ eat something. It was a calculated risk, not knowing just what kind of horrible tricks his body would play on him in the next half hour but he knew he had to get something in him before that happened. He abandoned Roman for the time being and headed into the kitchen ahead of him.

 

“Where the fuck is Andreas?” he asked, proceeding to raid Destiny's fridge without asking although he knew she wouldn't mind.

 

“He said he had to meet someone...” Destiny said, her arms crossed in annoyance, crossing the kitchen to sit at the island briefly. Something really seemed to be on her mind. He emerged with the milk and reached up to grab one of the various off-brand, bulk cereal bags on the top of the fridge, unsatisfied with himself at the sensation of his shirt riding up slightly. He yanked it down while he procured a bowl and soon ended up back at the table with a bowl of cereal.

 

“He's probably getting drunk with his friends,” Peter remarked offhand, settling on the opposite island stool. Destiny laughed, but it wasn't one that sounded particularly happy. “Are you okay...?” he asked again, as he had before.

 

“I don't know...” Destiny said with a sigh, avoiding looking at him. “I'm worried about Andreas...Not worried about him but the shit he's up to. Roman asked if I could trust him, and I was pissed off at first, because he's shit talking my boyfriend. Of course I fucking trust him. But now I'm not sure. He's never given me a _reason_ not to trust him, but what if I just haven't seen it?”

 

“Why are you getting cold feet now?”

 

Destiny sighed, like she didn't want to say what she was going to say, but she pressed on. After a pause, and a look of concentration, dread and sadness.

 

“Did Andreas...Did he push you in front of a truck?”

 

The question had Peter somewhat taken aback, and the first thing he could think to do was to let out a shocked laugh. “No...Not literally.”

 

“Not literally...?” Destiny asked, and it was clear she wasn't happy about this development.

 

“He had this stupid fucking plan to steal a shipping truck and sell it. I'm sure he did after we were done...but he waited 'til the full moon to fuck this guy up so hard he wouldn't know what was happening.”

 

“And?” Destiny asked, though it was more of a command. Flat and angry, telling Peter he better keep going.

 

“He used me as bait...One of us had to stop the truck and get him out, so one of us had to get out. No one really wanted to do it...” Peter stalled, taking in a breath and sighing as he spoke, “So I said yes.”

 

“Why are you so fucking reckless, Peter?” Destiny scoffed. “I mean you're either selling fake drugs or you're throwing yourself in front of trucks. What did you even need the money for?”

 

“I don't know, Dee, he just... He kept talking about how he wanted to give you a better life.”

 

“So he could've gotten you killed in the process, to give me a better life.” Destiny said, restraining her anger. “I can't fucking believe him...”

 

“I _was_ the one that volunteered-,”

 

“Don't make excuses for him, Peter.” Destiny interrupted. She stared down at the island, looking at the phone that she'd left sitting on the table. Like maybe she was waiting for him to text her. “If he comes back...when he comes back, I don't know if I want to see him. I don't know if I want him to stay here...I don't know what kind of stupid decisions I might make if I have to look at him. I'm too pissed off right now. This is bullshit. I mean, fuck...you were pregnant, then. None of you knew it but think of what could've happened? You threw yourself in front of a moving vehicle, six weeks pregnant, to get fucking paid. I can't lie and say more money doesn't make shit easier but not if it's using you as bait.”

 

Peter really didn't have much to say on the matter. On one hand he was flattered that she cared enough to choose him over Andreas but he knew she probably always would have. He always knew that. He felt like shit for having potentially damaged their relationship, though.

He had begun to wonder where the fuck Roman had gone when he finally emerged from the bathroom, looking significantly more damp. This was after Peter had finished eating and took his place on the opposite couch from Destiny to watch some show about animals murdering other animals. If that's what passed for television...

 

“Why'd you have to say shit?” Peter hissed as Roman sat down next to him.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Kinda just happened.”

 

“I'm glad he did,” Destiny clarified. She still seemed perturbed about the whole thing.

 

When Roman was sufficiently in position on the couch he managed to lean against him, to which in response he wrapped his arm around his middle to secure him. Peter found it was easy to drift off, and he almost did effortlessly if it was not for Roman's hand inching far closer to his abdomen. Eyes still closed, he suddenly reached to grab his hand and yank it away with a low and muffled, “Nope.” It only made Roman sigh in annoyance. He kept his hand tightly fastened to Roman's to avoid any future feel copping and feeling and drifted off once more. A dreamless, silent sleep that he hadn't even realized he'd fallen into until he woke up a bit later with Roman having fallen asleep as well. The sun was a little lower, Peter had to think maybe it was around late noon.

 

But he awoke to Hell. Destiny, thankfully, was still sitting there watching TV and noticed his waking. He felt like he was burning alive, but freezing at the same time, and he realized as he moved he'd been sweating. His stomach screamed with nausea and cramping and it only made his dizziness and sickly feeling so much worse.

 

“Are you okay?” Destiny asked. “Do you think you're going to be sick?” Peter mumbled a low 'yeah' before promptly gagging and having to stop himself from ruining her carpet more than drooling on her floor, which he did. She quickly handed him the trashcan from nearby, which he proceeded to destroy. He could feel her hand on his neck and Roman finally waking from his slumber beside him, face deep into the thing.

 

“Oh honey...” she said sympathetically, pulling his hair back while Roman ran his hand along the skin of his back, and he somehow felt so much cooler and it felt so good to him in the moment. “You're really sick,” she said. Yes, he was sick. He felt like shit. But he was sure she meant he had a fever, which he was quite sure he did. His entire body ached and throwing up felt almost as bad as it did the first time he'd started doing it. It pulled on _everything_. He practically sobbed in the midst of dry heaves from anguish. It felt like every part of his body was trying to come out through his mouth. When he was done it left him shaking, visibly shaking, and clutching onto the side of the trash can like it was his last line to reality. Once he was sure he was done destroying her trashcan, Peter turned and wrapped his arms haphazardly around Roman's waist to bury his head against the side of his chest, desperate for comfort. He ended up half in fetal position, laying his head in his lap and clinging onto him for dear life.

 

“Do you think I should tell them not to come over for the test?” he heard Roman ask Destiny.

 

“No, bring them over. We need to make sure the baby's okay with a fever like this.” Destiny said, suddenly jumping off the couch to run towards the kitchen. He didn't see what she was doing until she came back with a bottle of pills and a glass of water. “Come on, sit up,” she said, gently easing him into a sitting position. He did, and she handed him the glass and two pills. “We really need to get your fever down.”

 

Peter had a hard time taking them, at first. Every time something touched his tongue he gagged but he powered through it. Destiny gingerly rubbed his back to try to soothe him as he fought hard not to throw up again. He noticed Roman was texting someone, presumably Pryce, to bring the ultrasound equipment over. He didn't want to do this right now; he didn't even want to move, but he knew it was important. So he waited, in agony, for them to arrive. His stomach was cramping something awful but he felt no actual urge to use the bathroom. Still, he did end up stumbling to the bathroom and trying but nothing happened other than sitting there feeling horribly ill. He returned to the couch moments later with the intention of not moving for at least several hours.

 

Peter was surprised, several minutes later, to find that Pryce didn't actually join them. It was just Doctor Warren. She looked worried the moment she entered, carrying her 'briefcase' in hand with the laptop and the probe in it.

 

“What happened?” Warren asked, in a sort of sympathetic tone. “You were doing so well yesterday.”

 

“Blood makes me sick,” Peter choked out. “I had to drink it.”

 

“You get fevers like this?”

 

“No...it's the first time.”

 

“Do you want to do this here, so you don't have to move?”

 

Peter nodded, and barely waited for Roman to scoot down the couch before he flung himself onto his back, laying fairly close to his hip. To Peter's surprise, Warren didn't seem to mind actually getting down on the floor to position herself correctly. She was very quick, setting up the laptop and the probe in a few minutes, and before he knew it she was examining him. Peter couldn't really see much considering the laptop was on the floor where she was. He wasn't paying much attention in the first place. He was running on autopilot, only with the basic functions actually working and he was trying to ignore everything else.

 

“Are you okay?” Warren suddenly asked. Peter only made a vague gesture, one that he hoped she understood meant 'not really'. But he could tell she looked concerned about something. She let out a sigh, pulling the probe away and standing up. “I'm about to do something incredibly unorthodox...but I need to check your cervix again. I didn't plan for this...”

 

“Is she okay...?” Peter asked, his voice hoarse and tired.

 

“Her heart rate is a little elevated, but she's fine. Just like she was yesterday. I'm more worried about you...Do you have any...?” Warren stalled, looking at Destiny, who immediately seemed to take her meaning and headed off into another room. She returned with a pair of latex gloves, what looked to be like legitimate medical lubricant, and a blanket. She handed the latter to Peter, who put it on top of his lower half and knew enough about what she was doing that he'd need to take his pants off, which he did stealthily beneath the blanket.

 

“I'm sorry about this,” Warren said, pulling the gloves on and nearing the couch. “I know you don't like this. I was hoping I wouldn't have to do it again. I need you to scoot up, though.”

 

Since Roman was still sitting on the couch the scooting he did put him almost half in his lap. Roman probably would have moved had Peter given him the chance, but he did not. The only thing that wasn't in his lap was his lower half. It seemed uncomfortable for him but nonetheless he still reached down to hold his hand considering the last time someone shoved something medically into his body, it was unpleasant. Though he was sure she wasn't going to use a speculum considering she didn't bring one. She did come to sit in front of him on the couch, on her knees. It was indeed unorthodox but he knew there weren't a lot of options, unless she wanted him to move somewhere else but she seemed to be doing all she could for the benefit of his comfort. Destiny, in turn, perched herself on the edge of the couch (the edge closest to him) to quite literally watch over him.

 

She pushed his legs up and apart gently, but feeling her enter him was not quite as gentle. It was more uncomfortable than anything. He didn't want anything in there after what he'd done that morning, because he _still_ felt a little weird and sore. The presence of something inside him seemed to make his stomach cramp again, and he wasn't sure if she realized but she put a hand on his abdomen as she pushed further. It was already a weird, bad time. He felt sick to his stomach and everything hurt. He was on fire and freezing at the same time. As bad as it was, and embarrassing as it was, it got worse. Of _all_ times for Andreas to come home, it was this. He barely had time to react, but Andreas certainly looked confused.

 

“Get out!” Destiny yelled. Peter wasn't sure how much of it was anger at what he'd done, or fear at what he'd just walked in on. She did not have to speak twice, and he did turn around and walk back out the door but Peter had a feeling he hadn't really left.

 

“He has such bad timing,” Peter groaned, letting out a hiss of pain as Warren finally got as far as she could go and he felt it all through his abdomen. He felt Roman's grip tighten, and he looked up to see he wasn't looking at him really but in irritation at the door.

 

“Sorry,” Warren said sympathetically. She pulled her hand away and he felt an instant relief to finally be free of that unpleasant sensation, though his stomach still hurt. It was a wavering pain that seemed to come and go and Peter hadn't realized that's what Warren was paying attention to. She stood up from the couch and took off her gloves, giving Destiny a look as to ask what to do with them, to which she just gestured towards the trash can. Technically, a biological hazard but worse things were done on a daily basis, with all the bodily fluids that ended up on various washrags and Kleenexes. Peter, at the moment, wasn't keen on trying to put his pants back on so he shoved the blanket between his legs enough to shield himself.

 

“What happened differently this time when you drank the blood?” Warren asked.

 

“She gave me an Imodium...” Peter responded, though it was so quiet that he wasn't quite sure if she heard him. He didn't feel like trying to speak up, so he hoped she did. “I can't handle it like Roman can. It goes through me too fast...”

 

“Well...your body is treating it like a toxin. It's giving you a fever, to try to fight it, because instead of passing it like you normally would you've trapped everything inside of you. It's putting your body under a great deal of stress, even more so than the baby. Like I said, her heart rate is slightly elevated but not significantly so,” she sighed and stalled for a moment. She seemed to be mulling something over in her head.

 

“What I'm truly worried about, and this puts me in a difficult position, is that you're having very mild, very irregular contractions on top of whatever stress your intestinal tract is in. They don't appear to be actual labor contractions, and your cervix shows no signs of opening just yet...but it's still worrisome. It's most likely due to all the stress your body is under, and the fever.”

 

Peter truly hadn't realized that anything was actually _this_ wrong. He'd felt pain but he thought it was just the natural rhythm of his tortured intestinal tract. But this was different, and for a moment he was truly terrified. Even though she said it likely wasn't a sign of impending labor, what if it moved into that?

 

“Can't you stop them?” Roman asked. There was a hint of fear and anxiety in his voice as well. “There's got to be something you can give him.”

 

“There is...but since it's not indicative of actual labor contractions I'd like to hold off on that, especially since I'm not sure how he'll react to it given he doesn't have an actual uterus.”

 

“What am I supposed to do?” Peter asked, sounding weakened and afraid.

 

“In a normal case I'd admit you to the Institute for closer monitoring, but...that's not a good idea. You're already under stress. Moving you now would just put you under more stress, which might start labor. Not to mention there are some people sniffing around there that we don't recognize...so right here is the safest place. But unfortunately, if you do go into labor tonight you'll have to be admitted because she'll need critical and immediate care being preterm like she is. I'm not trying to scare you, that's the furthest thing from what I want to do. So right now, you just need to relax. Stay off your feet, keep your fever controlled. Don't try to reverse the effects of the Imodium by taking laxatives because that _will_ cause more stress,” Warren stopped speaking for a moment to gather her supplies, putting them back in their case.

 

“Fortunately, you are unlikely to actually go into labor soon. I would liken these contractions closer to Braxton-Hicks, I just want you to be careful. If it gets worse, and they get more uniform, you need to call me. In fact, it might help to keep checking the cervix to make sure it doesn't dilate. Of course, if it does...you need to come to the Institute.”

 

“How am I supposed to do that? I don't know what the fuck I'm looking for...” Peter said hopelessly.

 

“She's a midwife, isn't she? She's the one who's going to deliver?” Warren asked, gesturing towards Destiny. “Could you do it?”

 

“Yeah, I can.” Destiny said. Peter, in turn, groaned at this and felt a healthy dose of shame and embarrassment with the fact that Destiny was going to have to get into his business. She picked up on this quickly. “I'm gonna have to do it eventually, Peter. You know this.”

 

“I know,” he replied, still unhappy about that aspect. He was unhappy about all of it. Truthfully, he was terrified.

 

Warren picked up her packed case and smoothed out the wrinkles in her clothes, turning once more to look at Peter with concern.

 

“I need to leave now, to avoid suspicion, or I would stay longer. _Please_ try to relax. Don't fret over this, it's going to be okay.” She bid him one final farewell and then made her way out the door. After she'd left, Peter finally got the courage to put his pants back on. He pulled himself off of Roman after he did so and into a sitting position. It seemed that sitting up really put things in perspective, and though Warren told him not to worry the gravity of the situation was weighing on him. It all came crashing down and he suddenly found himself sobbing uncontrollably; zero to a hundred in seconds. Destiny quickly leapt off the arm of the couch to sit next to him on the opposite side, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him to lean against her. Gently shushing him and running her hand over his hair she attempted to console him.

 

“You're okay,” she said softly. “Everything's okay.”

 

“How the fuck did this happen to me over a fucking Imodium?” he choked out. “Can't I catch a break for five seconds?”

 

“I'm sorry...If I would've known this would happen I wouldn't have tried to give it to you.”

 

“I have bad luck,” Peter said, his voice conveying just how stuffed up he felt from all the crying, along with the hoarseness radiating from his lungs. “Ever since this started, I just have shit fucking luck. It's not your fault.”

 

“It will be okay, won't it?” Roman asked. Peter could hear the fear in his voice, masked with something he had to assume was false bravery, but he could hear it behind this so thickly it was nearly a tangible thing. Roman was terrified, and so was he.

 

“It'll be fine,” Destiny responded. “Even if it's not, she has...a fifty-fifty chance of being fine when she's born. Maybe more. She's proven herself to be incredibly strong already.”

 

Ever the terrible timing, Andreas quietly opened the door once more, an evident question burning in his mind but Destiny made it known less stealthily than she thought that Peter should give them some alone time, although she suspected she did have his best interests at heart.

 

“Why don't you go take a bath? It will help you feel better and get your fever down.”

 

“Alright,” he mumbled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, giving one final sniffle before he attempted to stand. His world spun before him and Roman quickly stood to steady him, wrapping an arm around him and helping to lead him to the bathroom. Peter felt like the door seemed to get further and further away the longer he walked. His perception seemed incredibly altered, but he did finally reach it and broke free from Roman's grip to stumble onto the toilet, sitting on the closed lid and putting his head between his knees to stop the world from spinning. It was going to be a long day... While Roman took the liberty of running a bath for him, he heard muffled speech from the living room, almost terrified at what she had to say to Andreas because he knew the truth would come out eventually.

 

 

Destiny, however, was not as keen as explaining it to him directly as she was angry at his presence. She was still angry; she was pissed that he had the gal to lie to her and push her cousin in front of a fucking semi, so to speak. She was also worried and full of pity for Peter, and this helped dull the raging fire she felt towards Andreas at the moment.

 

“So...do you want to explain what the hell just happened in here?” Andreas asked, and there was a bit of a slur to his speech and she knew he might have had one or two drinks, at least. But with this, Destiny felt like she was out for blood. It was horrible, looking at the man she loved and given so much for, feeling so angry at him at the moment. Wanting to know _why_.

 

“Do you want to explain to me why you convinced my cousin to jump in front of a semi?” she asked, her tone mostly flat but with a sharp and angry bitterness.

 

“What? I didn't-,”

 

“Andreas, don't lie to me. You know you can't lie to me.”

 

He scoffed lightly; not a scoff of any sort of malice, but one of a man who knew he'd been caught. Shifting from one foot to the other, a nervous run of his hand along his lower jaw.

 

“Babe it was just...it was business, but what does this have to do with anything?”

 

“You could've used _literally_ anybody but Peter. I wouldn't have given a shit. I don't care what you're doing, as long as you're not hurting my family, or fucking around behind my back with some skanky hooker. So whatever _business_ you might have had? You should've left him out of it. You have _no_ idea the kind of damage you could've caused.”

 

“He was the one that offered.”

 

“I don't care!” Destiny nearly shouted. It wasn't loud, so much as it was just a raise of voice and tone. “Just because he offered doesn't mean you take him up on that offer! I mean, how do you think it's a good idea to throw the woman your with's family into the fucking street, Andreas?”

 

“Babe, I'm sorry, but it's in the past! Is this what this is about?”

“No, it's not. I'm pissed that I just now heard about this. I'm pissed that you would've hidden this from me for the rest of our lives together, and I probably would've found out anyway because you should _know_ not to hide shit from me, but if you hid this, what else are you hiding? How can I trust you after this?”

 

“I promise you I've been flying straight since he left. I've got nothing to hide, Destiny.”

 

“I don't know...” Destiny said with a sigh. “You need to go.”

 

“Are you-...” he stalled, floundering for a moment. “Are you breaking up with me?”

 

“No. No, I just...I need space right now, and you can't be here. Not just for me, but because of Peter. He's really sick and you just...you _cannot_ be here for this.”

 

“Can you at least give me an idea of what the hell is going on here? I'm not the psychic one, you're leaving me in the dark.”

 

“Why do you think you need to know?”

 

“Because believe it or not, Peter's family to me too. Your family is my family. And you know, you're kicking me out of here, and you're not telling me shit about what's happening. Don't you think I deserve to know?”

 

“Do you?” Destiny said, narrowing her eyes. But with a sigh, she relented. “Andreas...if I tell you what's happening, you cannot let it leave this room. Do you understand? You cannot tell your friends, or whoever the fuck it is you meet up with. It is dire shit. If it gets out, people will come for him. They'll probably come for you, too.”

 

“I got it,” Andreas said, and Destiny hoped he was telling the truth.

 

“I'm fucking serious. I know you're going to want to tell someone but you're going to have to keep your mouth shut.”

 

“Babe, please...”

 

She looked back towards the bathroom door, to make sure she was out of earshot, closing the gap between them.

 

“I know that he's gonna hate that I'm telling you this, but he's pregnant, and what you walked in on was a cervical exam. Yes, it's possible. It's rare but possible. Don't fucking tell anyone.”

 

“You're fucking with me, right?” Andreas asked. “I mean...” he stalled, running a hand through his hair nervously. “So when he was hit by that truck...”

 

“Yes,” Destiny clarified. “He didn't know then, either.”

 

“How does shit like that happen?”

 

“It's a werewolf thing.”

 

“Never would've guessed he played for the other team...” Andreas mumbled. “Who's is it?”

 

“Roman's. Don't you wonder why he's been hanging around so much?” Destiny sighed, deciding now that Andreas had enough information. “You've gotta go. Like I said, he's sick. He needs to be as stress free as possible for the next few hours at least, and if something goes wrong I guarantee he's not going to want you here.”

 

“Can you at least tell me when I can come home?” Andreas asked, defeated.

 

“You'll be lucky if I let you come home at all with the shit you pulled with the truck...but yeah, I'll call you.”

 

Andreas leaned forward to kiss her, and almost begrudgingly she accepted. After he kissed her, she grabbed him by the shoulders, turned him around and pushed him towards the door. She bid him a farewell, told him she loved him (even though she was pissed) and shut the door behind him.

 

 

 

While Destiny had been conversing with Andreas, and failing to stay mad at him, Peter had made his way into the tub and seemed to suddenly be feeling very exposed. He tolerated Roman's presence for the time being, but after a while decided he wanted to be alone and kicked him out of the bathroom. It terrified Roman to leave him alone considering the state he was in just getting into the bathroom but he allowed it. Destiny had vacated the premises for the time being, and assuming she was still in the house he had to assume she was in her bedroom. He sat down on the couch, listening to the drone of the still playing TV in the background.

 

 

Even with the background noise, there was a silence and stillness that took over the room that, like Peter seconds before, really set things into perspective. Alone with his thoughts, the fear really set in. He knew what Destiny had said, how she thought it would be okay ,and it probably would but once again Roman was reminded at just how fucking hard this all was. How hard it was to stay strong, to keep in control. He wasn't in control, he never was as much as he tried. In that terror, he felt so small and so lost, and alone. Alone enough to cry in secret, so he thought. It was a sudden torrent that began and would not stop. Roman had tried not to cry so much, and he thought he was doing a good job, but the truth of the matter was Roman often cried more than most men. At this point, he cried far less than Peter but that was because his hormones were fucked up.

 

“Roman?” Destiny called to him. He had been half hunched over, head in his hands and not expecting her to enter. He took in an audible gasp, sounding wet and shaking with the amount of mucus he was leaking down his throat. He ran a hand across his face and stammered, “Fuck I-I'm fine.”

 

“Are you?” Destiny asked, coming to sit next to him on the couch. He stared ahead of him, refusing to look at her and despite the fact that he was still visibly crying he attempted to lie to her.

 

“Yeah. I'm-...I'm the fucking strong one here,” he said with a sniffle, again wiping at his eyes, “I have to be.”

 

“You're not,” she replied. “But you don't have to be.”

 

Roman hung his head once more and broke, sobbing next to her in the most pathetic of displays. He hated crying next to her, of all people. The person he thought he had a point to prove to. To show him he _could_ be right for Peter, but he was fucking up again, showing his weakness. To his surprise, as she'd done to Peter, she wrapped an arm around him and pulled her close to his chest. Gently running her hand down his back, and it was awkward considering, while she wasn't tiny, she was still smaller than he was. Around the same size as Peter but definitely a different shape.

 

“He's going to be fine...If nothing else, _he'll_ come out of this okay.”

 

“I don't want to lose her...” Roman said, almost muffled by the fact that he was looking away from her as he spoke.

 

“I know,” she said sympathetically.

 

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there like this, crying into her side, but he was suddenly forced to stop due to parental obligations. He heard a cry from the bedroom and realized it was probably time for Nadia to be fed. Though she could probably tolerate solid food at the moment, Roman didn't have any. All he had was the formula mixture in the bag. Apparently, she'd been tolerating it because he hadn't been warned against it.

“I have to feed her,” he said, pulling away from her and quickly rushing into the bedroom. He gathered her up, made sure it wasn't her diaper that needed changing instead of her being hungry, and found that she was indeed most likely hungry. He brought her into the living room along with the bag and set about mixing the formula, with her held against his chest with one hand and him desperately trying to mix the formula one handed with the other.

 

He was still rattled by the time got back to the couch with her, and found that she didn't need him to really hold the bottle because she held it on her own, greedily drinking it down and making Roman thank whatever higher power had allowed her to stop being so fussy with what she ate. He felt like he was running on fumes and anxiety at the moment and didn't have the energy to deal with a baby who wouldn't eat. He felt like he was about to fall asleep feeding her but he refused to do so. He'd already fallen asleep twice that day, and he knew it was just his sleeplessness catching up with him, but it was annoying.

 

 

Peter finally emerged moments later, and had Roman not had a baby in his arms he would have gone to help him but Destiny took it upon herself to lead him back to the living room. He seemed unsteady of his feet still and it scared the shit out of him just to watch.

 

“Are you feeling better?” Destiny asked, after she'd helped him onto the couch opposite of them. He merely shrugged, let out an uncomfortable sounding exhale and eased himself to lay on the couch.

 

“Do you want to go lay down in bed?” she asked him.

 

“No...I want to be in here,” he protested. “Makes me feel less alone...”

 

“Alright,” Destiny replied, though she seemed confused by his choice she didn't question it.

 

 

The next few hours seemed touch and go. Peter slept through most of the day, even though his fever did break for a while he seemed exhausted. Despite this, Destiny made him some soup and forced him to eat it while he wasn't running a high fever. He relented, though he wasn't happy about it. He struggled to eat it and then took up his position on the couch again and fell back asleep. Even to Roman it was strange, his obsession with sleeping only on the couch. If it was comfortable to him, so be it. Whatever contractions he seemed to be having had eased off for a while and the both of them seemed relieved, despite the fact that Peter still felt like shit.

 

 

But of course, nothing was easy for them. Around late evening, his fever returned as did the contractions. He hadn't been aware of it, at first. He knew his stomach hurt, but it had been hurting off and on all day. The pain between his intestines and his womb was different but only slightly, and it took him a minute to differentiate. Destiny had apparently been watching him like a hawk, and knew before he did. He'd been laying on his back, languishing in illness when the pain hit him again. A sort of ache that was like someone was trying to very gently pull everything out of him, from the inside. It hurt, but it wasn't that bad. Still, he winced with discomfort.

 

“Peter...I know you're not going to like this,” Destiny said, suddenly standing from the couch opposite of him and coming to kneel beside him on the floor. “But I need to check your abdomen.”

 

“For what?” Peter asked, annoyed. “It's still there.”

 

“Just shut up and let me do my job,” Destiny replied, annoyed with him clearly. She pushed his shirt up and then laid her hand on his lower abdomen, holding it there, almost pushing down slightly. In response to this, he felt a very strong movement that felt like it was probably a kick, aimed directly at her. How dare she touch her, when everything else was disturbing her home from the inside?

 

“I really wish that would've happened under better circumstances,” Destiny said. She seemed both and awe and amused, but also worried.

 

The pain did not quite relent, or rather it did but only for a few seconds before returning once more with a vengeance. He let out a muffled groan, shifting his hips up in an attempt to quell it. It helped, but only slightly.

 

“You alright?” she asked, reaching up with her other hand to rub his forearm.

 

“Just kind of hurts,” he said with a sigh as soon as the pain relented.

 

“Yeah, that happens. Your fever is coming back up, so you're contracting again. It's still pretty irregular but that last one was pretty hard.”

 

Whatever response he gave was not words, only some annoyed and unsettled groan in response. He still felt incredibly uncomfortable and arched his back up slightly and scooted down to let his body lay flatter. He knew he wasn't really supposed to be lying on his back but being stretched out fully seemed to help quell his discomfort.

 

“How can you tell?” he murmured, abruptly turning on his side to face her once he felt most of the pain had abated.

 

“Because your muscles tense up. You can see it, if you know what you're looking for. That's how I knew, but it's easier to judge it by feeling it. The easiest way would be an actual monitor but we kind of don't have that here.”

 

She stood, and looked at him like she was about to say something Peter wasn't going to like, and she did.

 

“I should really, really check you,” she said, almost saddened with the knowledge of what she had to do, and how much Peter would hate it. And oh, how he did. He let out another muffled groan, followed by a hoarse, “Seriously?”

 

“I don't want to do it as much as you don't want me to, but I need to.”

 

“Can you at least wait until he gets back from the bathroom so he doesn't walk in with you wrist deep in my crotch?” Peter protested.

 

“What is with you two not knowing how anatomy works? Yeah, I'll wait. I need to get my stuff together anyway.”

 

 

By the time Destiny had gathered her gloves and medical lubricant, Roman did finally emerge from the bathroom, having been in there so fucking long that Peter could've sworn he was probably doing coke in there or something. Obviously, he wasn't, but with the time length he could've done at least a couple of lines.

 

“What the fuck is happening out here?” Roman asked, seeing Destiny snapping on a pair of gloves and Peter sitting there looking incredibly unhappy about the whole thing.

 

“Nice of you to join us, I have to do a cervix check.” She sighed, gesturing towards him with an entire bottle of lube as she spoke. “Come on, take your pants off. The faster you do this, the faster we can be done with it.”

 

 

Luckily, he'd been half under a blanket anyway and bundled it up around his middle as he disrobed from the waist down. Roman had unfortunately not been near enough for him to do what he had last time, which was to allow Peter to lay on his lap. He could only stand by his side and watch. Peter attempted to look anywhere but down, mostly staring up at the ceiling as Destiny sat on the couch in front of him. He was still technically covered, but he wouldn't be for long. He let out a long exhale in an attempt to calm himself, which did not go unnoticed.

 

“You know, I've seen you naked half a dozen times.” Destiny said, pushing the blanket up slightly.

 

“I must not have realized you were sticking your fucking fingers in me then,” Peter snapped.

 

“Look, you're the one who wanted me to do this in the first place. I'm going to have to do this _several_ times when you're actually in labor, so you better get used to it now.”

 

Peter managed to check out long enough for Destiny to check him. He had a bit of an out of body experience the minute he felt her enter him, enough to ignore the mild trauma of having a relative get so close to his bits, even though she was completely right. She'd have to do much more later. He didn't actually check back in until she spoke, pulling her hand away and making Peter wonder just how long he'd been ignoring his own existence.

 

“I don't think anything's getting through there,” Destiny said, pulling her gloves off swiftly and tossing them in the trash. “You're good.”

 

While he put his pants back on, she headed into the kitchen to return with a glass of water and a couple of pills. She handed them to him and he forced them down, feeling nausea beginning to quell in his stomach again as his fever rose. He was ready for this to be over with, and regretted the moment he decided to take that fucking Imodium to stop all of his natural processes.

 

 

Roman joined him on the couch after he'd been situated, and as uncomfortable as it was for both of them he laid with him, because it was what Peter truly wanted at the moment without actually having to move from the couch. He felt safe on the couch. Safe, and although he knew he was half crushing Roman, soothed by the way he touched him. Gentle caresses along his back, running his fingers gently through his hair. It soothed him to the point of falling asleep again, for the most part. He would still be awoken by wayward intestinal distress and contractions, and as much as he hated Roman touching his stomach Destiny had apparently told him what to do in this event, because half asleep he noticed that every time one would hit, Roman knew. He assumed because it seemed to wake him up, because Destiny had told him what to watch for. He would run his hand along his abdomen and help to lessen the pain until it stopped. For this, he was grateful.

 

He assumed at some point later, his fever had broken while he slept because he did not feel particularly horrible when Roman finally dislodged himself from him, but he found that he would rather sleep than get up. He heard him say something to him, but Peter vaguely remembered telling him to fuck off and going back to sleep. He wasn't sure what time that was, or what time he woke up, but waking up was hell. It was dark, he was alone. Wrapped haphazardly in a cocoon of blankets he was soaked with sweat and yet freezing at the same time. It wasn't so much that he was cold; he was actually very hot, but he recognized he had chills. It took him a moment to understand where he was, what was happening, _who_ he was, but everything felt _wrong_. There was a ringing in his ears and his vision seemed to swim and pulse, and he had this persistent chill. A chill that continuously ran up and down his spine like it was playing a fucking xylophone. But then there was the pain. A sudden, sharp and strong, squeezing pain that Peter had not realized at first , was a warning. A very, very short warning that even if he had been in the right state of mind would have done nothing for him.

 

 

For a moment, the pain was all he could focus on. It was almost debilitating, but it probably wasn't the worst pain he'd ever experienced. He just felt so ill that there was just so much he could take. He realized, far too late, the feeling of what felt like all his intestines trying to exit his body at once. Evidently, the Imodium only could delay the inevitable for so long. That was only logical, but he certainly had not expected it to go down like it did. When this usually happened, he ended up in the bathroom, sitting there for several minutes in mild agony, before leaving and experiencing it several more times over the next few hours. He already felt like he was being punished by his body by just taking in blood. He thought he was punished by getting sick by stopping his body's natural processes. But no, it had one more trick up its sleeve; immediate purging of all, or most, of everything he'd failed to naturally pass beforehand. Like a fucking dam breaking, he went from laying there in agony to spilling half the contents of his intestines all over the goddamn couch. Well, it was more the blanket since he was so tightly wrapped up in it.

 

 

 

This woke him up enough to stop laying there, of course. A strangled, disgusted noise birthing from the back of his throat as he threw himself off the couch. Tangled in the blanket, he mostly ended up on his knees on the floor. The shift in position immediately made his head spin and he realized if he stood he was going to pass out, so he ended up dragging himself the rest of the length from the couch to the bathroom like some kind of pathetic snail, still wrapped up because he knew if he unwrapped himself he'd be removing the barrier between him and absolutely destroying Destiny's carpet. It wasn't just the concept of being covered in your own waste products that spurred him to reach the sanctity of the bathroom, but the fact that his stomach protested so much he knew it wasn't done trying to ruin his life. He felt like he was in a war, desperately crawling to safety, dying, bleeding probably, in agony and honestly, he was sure half a dozen soldiers also shit themselves in battle from one thing or another, so accuracy abound he guessed.

 

He practically slammed himself into the door to open it, grateful that Destiny left the light on for him, perhaps with the foresight that some bullshit like this might happen to him. He flipped himself over, shoved the door shut with one foot and attempted to get himself free of both his pants and the blanket. He got about half way, before in true 'surprise bitch bet you thought you'd seen the last of me' fashion, his stomach rebelled yet a second time and emptied the _rest_ of his intestines, and he truly thought he could have at least actually been on the toilet when it happened, but he guessed fucking not. At least it was on tile. From all the exertion he knew he was about to pass out, here on this cold floor, which he shit upon like some deranged and very ill animal, he thought maybe he could just die here. He prayed for it, for a moment, to get himself out of this godawful situation he'd gotten into. Yes, death was preferable to having to deal with what he knew he was going to have to deal with. Shame, guilt, a lot of laundry.

 

He hadn't realized he'd actually passed out he felt incredibly wet, everywhere. Like not the kind of wet he had been, and believe him, it had been very wet, it was more like water. He suddenly felt as though he'd not breathed in ages and took in a deep gasp, scrambling and terrified, not knowing where he was but he did know he felt someone's hands between his legs, and still in his terror and confusion he did know enough to yell “Do _not_ fucking touch me,”

 

 

Shaking and clutching to the edges of what he realized was the bathtub, he found Roman holding his hands raised in defense, shirtless and sitting at the edge while the water of the shower pelted down upon him. He looked shocked that Peter had actually woken up, and he could not do more but to respond with a shaking and dismayed groan at his very presence.

 

“Why the fuck are you here?” Peter asked finally, his voice still uneven, shaking and changing in pitch as he struggled to get his body temperature right. Even though he was being pelted with hot water, as soon as it went away from him he felt freezing.

 

“I could _not_ leave you like Destiny found you,” Roman said defensively.

 

“I don't want you to fucking see me like this,” Peter stammered, bringing himself to sit forward.

 

“Peter...I'm not gonna judge you. You're like, seriously sick.”

 

“That's what you fucking said that time I got kicked in the bladder, and then you made jokes about it for days.” He snatched the cloth from Roman and cleaned himself up the rest of the way, though he noted he was 90% clean anyway. It made it even worse to think that Roman had cleaned him up while he slept. “I don't trust you.”

 

“Rude,” Roman said, feigning hurt.

 

“Why are you shirtless, anyway?”

 

“Because I had to pick you up...and you kind of, uh...I mean, you can guess why.”

Peter let out a noise that was halfway between disgust and despair, lying his head against his knees and trying to shut out the world. He felt Roman's hand run down his back, and he was grateful for it but he also still felt miserable and incredibly embarrassed. The more he stayed, the more he thought about just what Roman had to endure and he hated that. Not that he was specifically sorry _for_ Roman, just that he'd _seen_ him like that. Peter was technically an adult. He had the emotional capacity to realize that at this age this shouldn't have happened, but then again he really shouldn't be pregnant either. But Roman spoke, and for a minute Peter was so confused as to what he was saying, and why he was saying it, that he forgot to be embarrassed.

 

“One time I got really drunk,” Roman started. “On Vodka. I think it was when I was sixteen. At some stupid ass party I didn't need to be at, and they didn't want me driving home drunk. Probably because of who I am, because they let other people go. So they called my fucking mom, right? At midnight or some shit.” Peter really wasn't sure where this story was going. “And I was hammered, and she showed up, pissed off, and got me into the car. It was this stupid long drive because it was in a neighboring town but people still fucking knew who I was.” He stalled, letting out some kind of nervous laugh. “Anyway, Olivia's a bitch. I told her I didn't feel good , I think, it was kind of a blur. She didn't care, told me it was some kind of punishment...Anyway, I guess I forgot what Vodka does to your stomach, and I just...totally shit myself in her car, and it was...really bad. And she was really pissed off. She had to get it detailed, and she told me I deserved it.”

 

“Roman, why the fuck are you telling me this?” Peter asked with some kind of mild amusement.

 

“I'm trying to make you feel better, you asshole. I mean, at least your cousin didn't threaten to beat your ass for fucking up her blanket.”

 

“You're an idiot,” Peter said, but he knew he didn't mean it, and he knew Roman knew he didn't mean it. He turned suddenly, leaned over the side of the tub and wrapped his arms around Roman's neck, to lean his head against his shoulder. It was a really weird, uncomfortable and wet hug but he still felt like he needed it. “I wanna get out,” he mumbled into his skin.

 

Roman helped him out of the shower, and leaned down while he was still halfway attached to him at the neck to turn it off. He was cold, and Roman was warm, and so he desperately clung to him until Roman grabbed a towel and threw it around him to help dry him off.

 

“Did I really fuck up her blanket?” Peter asked, pulling away briefly enough to look at him.

 

“Yeah it's...I'm pretty sure she threw it away. And everything else.”

 

“Fuck, those were my good underwear...”

“They barely fit you, and they had six holes in the waistband,” Roman said, grabbing one of the smaller towels and tousling his hair with it until it was at least somewhat dry. It annoyed Peter but he allowed it. It was sufficiently mussed and everywhere when he pulled the towel away, and it seemed to amuse him.

 

“They were fine,” Peter defended. He reached up to slick his hair back so that it wasn't in his face, but it did end up falling back fairly quickly. He abandoned this venture, and sighed with a mumbled, “I need to sleep...”

 

“Are you sure you...” Roman stalled. “Do you need to stay in here longer?”

 

“I need you to shut up, and let me sleep. I'm fine. I actually feel a little better...”

 

“I mean, if this happens again...I won't judge.”

 

“It's not. Shut up, stop talking about it. This never happened, okay?”

 

“Alright,” Roman said, though there was a hint of disbelief and suspicion in his tone.

 

 

Peter, with the lack of clothes that he had, ended up heading back into the bedroom in a towel and passing Destiny on the way, who was coming back with some extra towels.

 

“You okay, sweetie?” she asked, concerned.

 

“I'm fine,” he said through his teeth, now starting to get annoyed with people asking him questions, especially after such a delicate time, though he knew Destiny meant no harm. He pulled on a pair of boxers and found this to be sufficient, then buried himself deep in the blankets and fell asleep instantly. He would leave this incident behind him, never speak of it again, and hope the next day was filled with far less sickness.

 

 

 

 

**ART:**

 

**It's just Doctor Warren**

 

****

 


	24. Little Nikki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i feel like this might be a bit of a..filler chapter of sorts, but there is some new and added information and it's used to bridge the gap between time changes
> 
> there's also art, but it's nsfw so I'll post the cropped version 
> 
> but i recommend clicking for the full version; it makes more sense

Waking that next morning was surprisingly painful. Peter felt sore as all get out, mostly because he had slept in the most uncomfortable position imaginable apparently. Roman was plastered to his back and he wasn't having it. He struggled out of his grasp, grabbed a shirt from the bag and hightailed it to the bathroom, dressing as he went. His bladder just wasn't having it. Luckily, he'd slept through the night with no further stomach issues. It seems as though he truly did get everything out at once, just very inconveniently. Walking back into that bathroom did give him a very mild dose of PTSD but he was able to put it behind him, do what he came to do, and quickly attempt to head back to the bedroom. He was momentarily distracted by Destiny, though. He heard her quiet murmuring from the living room and recognized that she was on the phone, but he also recognized she was talking about him. He leaned up against one of the walls, where Destiny couldn't see him, and listened to her strange one-sided conversation.

 

“I felt so awful,” she said. A pause. “I mean, because I caused it. Shit, I didn't know Imodium could do _that_. But I spent all night worrying, I had no clue what was going to happen. I still don't know if it'll be alright. I checked him yesterday, and he was hard as hell, but -” she stopped, sighed, “No, the _cervix_.”

 

Peter cleared his throat loudly, stepping from behind the wall and leaning against the edge, like he was making it clear she'd been caught. She looked surprised, but quickly put on a look of concern and relief. She wasn't ashamed of being caught.

 

“How are you feeling today?” she asked, tilting the phone away from her.

 

“I think I'm over...” he stalled, gesticulating looking for the right word, “That shit.”

 

“You didn't have any more contractions?”

 

“I wouldn't know if I did. I could barely tell in the first place. Who the hell are you telling all my secrets to?”

 

“Your mom.”

 

“Isn't that dangerous...?” Peter hadn't expected her to be talking to Lynda, but the last he knew Lynda was a wanted criminal and so was he, so to speak. He was more worried about Lynda, though.

 

“It's getting harder and harder to send mail lately, Peter. It's easier just to talk to her. I sent her the pictures from the other day because I wasn't sure when she'd get them and...if anything would have changed.”

 

“Wouldn't it have been worse if something _did_ happen and she had them?” Peter asked, crossing the room to sit next to her.

 

“I don't know, maybe. Do you want to talk to her?”

 

“Does she want to talk to me?” It sounded more accusatory than he meant it to. He was sure she wouldn't mind, he just didn't want to keep her busy.

Destiny didn't give this a direct response. Instead, she took up the phone again and spoke to her. “It's worse than I thought, Lynda. The sickness must have gone to his brain last night because he thinks you don't want to talk to him. I'm going to have to take him to the Institute to make sure he still has one left.”

 

“That's not what I meant,” he said in a hushed tone. Without another word, Destiny handed him the phone. As he answered, with a modest and neutral 'hey', he was rudely kicked hard from the inside and it ended up stilted and weird sounding. He muttered a curse under his breath at the audacity she had to kick him.

 

“Hi baby, are you okay?” she asked him, most likely due to the way he answered the phone.

 

“I'm-..I'm fine, I got kicked.” he said, stammering somewhat as she continued a mild assault on his insides. “How are you?”

 

“I'm fine, Peter. I'd rather be back home but everything's okay. But what about you? Destiny says you had a rough night last night.”

 

“I did...but I'm okay now.”

 

Peter almost felt like he didn't know what to say to her. He hadn't talked to her in a long time. She didn't seem to want to talk about herself, and Peter didn't really feel great talking about himself either. He was hinging on her to steer the conversation so that he could respond. Of course, it was good to talk to her again but it was strange. She knew things that he hadn't told her; there was no breaking the news to her like he should have. No cutesy announcements or anything like that, even though Peter wasn't into that shit anyway. It was all just horror and survival.

 

“You better take care of yourself. Every time Destiny tells me anything it's usually bad.”

 

“I'm trying,” Peter said with a tired sigh. “I'm just on the run a lot, you know? Bad shit happens.”

 

“I know...Just be careful. I don't want to see you or my grandbaby hurt.”

 

“At this point I think she's healthier than me,” Peter muttered. “Always kicking my ass.”

 

“Good,” Lynda said, and Peter could almost hear the smile on her face. “She'll thrive.”

 

“Maybe she should thrive a little less, I gotta be able to keep up with her.”

 

Lynda let out a slight chuckle, and there was silence for a moment before she spoke again. In that silence, it felt like an eternity of awkwardness.

 

“This really isn't how I expected to get my first grandchild.”

 

“Neither did I,”

 

“I really did think it'd be with Letha when the two of you first started seeing each other...But I'll be honest, Peter...she was really never the one for you.”

 

“Why do you say that?” Peter asked, feeling a lump form in his throat that he had to swallow down.

 

“Because I saw how you were with Roman, and how he was with you. You two understand each other more than any normal person could. As much as I tried to keep you away from the Godfreys I had a feeling you'd find your way back to him. Just...not to this extent.”

 

“We were still friends when this started,” Peter said, leaning back against the couch slightly.

 

“You're not friends?”

 

“No...not friends. More than friends,” he said, settling his hand against his stomach to try to quell the acrobatics in his innards.

 

“I'd say so with all those hickeys. Looks like he's trying to feed from you.” Peter knew she was teasing him about this.

 

“Ugh,” Peter groaned. “Whatever. How do you think she got in there?”

 

“Not through your neck, I hope.”

 

“Well, nothing's normal about any of this so I wouldn't be surprised if she had been.” He ended this with a slightly annoyed groan, pushing against his abdomen slightly as he did so.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yeah it's just...she never fucking sleeps. And she's so bad with Nadia...Even in the womb it's like she's ...fighting her, or she wants to get to her. I don't know.”

 

“Nadia?” Lynda asked.

 

“Roman's...niece. The one I wrote you about.” He stalled, making sure he didn't say 'daughter' because there were very few people who actually knew her true origins, and he didn't want Destiny to know either.

 

“Letha's baby?”

 

“Yeah...We got her back. She's with us until we leave, Roman wanted to spend time with her.”

 

“You talking shit about me in here?” he heard from behind him. He jumped slightly and very nearly threw the phone at him, and Roman should count himself lucky.

 

“Motherfucker, how do you move so quiet? You're like eight feet tall.”

 

“It's carpeted in here,” Roman said, sliding in next to him. He slid an arm around him like he was so fucking smooth. He was, but Peter wouldn't admit it.

 

“Yeah, I'm talking shit about you being a good dad, what of it?” Peter quipped.

 

“Is that Roman? Let me talk to my future son-in-law,” Lynda said.

 

“Wishful thinking,” Peter mumbled. He handed Roman the phone, not bothering to tell him who it was. His confusion was brief, and he only heard it in the way he answered, but he soon caught on and Peter only distantly listened to their conversation. As he leaned against him, he felt Roman slip his hand further down his back, to wrap around him and lay his hand on the one Peter currently had rested on his lower abdomen. He allowed it, since he wasn't actually touching his stomach, and shifted his fingers as Roman slotted his own between them. He noticed Destiny watching them with some sort of fondness, to which he mouthed a 'what' in her direction. She only shrugged.

 

 

Roman, of course, overstepped his boundaries. He slipped his hand away from Peter's and downwards, which Peter quickly noticed and grabbed his hand but decided against stopping him at the last minute, feeling it wasn't worth the trouble to stop him. Instead he let his hand lay on top of Roman's, mirroring the action they had been doing only moments prior.

 

“Your mom keeps calling me her son-in-law,” Roman said suddenly, holding the receiver away from him for a moment. Peter chuckled at the notion, looking up at him from where his head rested against his collarbone.

 

“Does she?”

 

“Yeah, where would she get such an idea?”

 

“Maybe she just wants a son-in-law. You should count yourself lucky.”

 

“Why?” Roman asked, with a breath of a laugh.

 

“You're a _gadje_. This shit wouldn't fly if Lynda wasn't the way she was. We're both half-breeds anyway.”

 

“Sometimes I forget how different of a world you come from,” Roman said, leaning down to kiss him lightly.

 

“Now you just have to impress me, good luck.” Destiny said, but Peter knew it was half joking. Only half.

 

Roman suddenly turned the phone back to him, and then after a brief few exchanged pleasantries, he handed it back to Peter.

 

“You have my blessing, if you want it.” Lynda said to him, a hint of whimsy and mischief on her tone.

 

“Is that a blessing or a command?”

 

“Whatever you want it to be.”

 

They spoke for a few more minutes before Destiny took the phone back once more, and while she was busy on the phone Roman leaned down to kiss him once more in silence. It seemed that for a moment, Peter forgot Destiny was sitting right next to him and it got a lot heavier than he'd intended.

 

“Hey, hey!” she shouted. “Seriously?”

 

Roman suddenly pulled away, looking embarrassed, and pulled his arm away from Peter in preparation to get up.

 

“I'm going to get a shower,” he said, leaving Peter on the couch for a moment. Roman winked at him once he knew that only Peter could see him, and then Peter had a decision to make. Did he follow him, or stay there? He wanted to follow him, but he knew how that would look. After a few moments, he looked to Destiny who was still on the phone and half ignoring him, and gave her a half-cocked excuse.

 

“I think I might go ...lay down,” he said, standing up from the couch.

 

“Peter...I'm disappointed in you. That's a terrible lie, I know you can do better.”

 

He didn't respond, but instead headed off towards the bathroom anyway. It was, technically, past the bedroom so he _could_ have. Still, he heard Destiny yell from the couch in his general direction, “Don't fuck up my bathroom!” she paused, before adding, “Again!”

 

“I'll try not to!” Peter called back, making his way into the bathroom. He didn't' get by a few feet inside when Roman grabbed him and pushed him against the wall, and he had his mouth on him in seconds. Peter struggled to close the door the rest of the way with Roman pinning him to the wall with his body, and his face. Once he got the door closed he reciprocated much easier, pulling him closer by wrapping his arm around his waist, the other gripping his hair. Roman was relentless, and it was clear he had one thing on his mind, and it was very quickly getting on Peter's too.

 

He slipped his hand between them, palming the front of Peter's boxers in a way that made his breath hitch. Roman pulled away from his mouth, leaving Peter to chase after him in desperation and instinct, but Roman kept far enough away from him. He merely stared him down, biting his own lip and watching as Peter shifted his hips against Roman's hand the more he touched him.

 

“I was serious about a shower,” he said, not once taking his hand away.

 

“Then why the fuck did you drag me in here?” Peter asked, annoyed, but still desperate for Roman to keep touching him. He was clearly aroused, already mostly hard and leaking against the cloth with every pass of Roman's hand.

 

“Because Nadia's in the bedroom...” Roman said in a hushed tone, leaning forward again to pin him against the wall and kiss up the side of his neck. “So I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone.”

 

“Are you trying to fuck me in the shower?” Peter said, laughing slightly before his breath hitched again as Roman passed over him.

 

“Are you protesting?”

 

“No...but you didn't bring any lube. I'm surprised you still want to.”

 

“What, fuck you?” Roman asked, pulling away once more. “I didn't really think of it until you decided to make out with me on the couch...Why wouldn't I?”

“I don't know...after last night, the bathroom kinda gives me PTSD.”

 

“I think Destiny scoured this place ten times.”

 

“You still didn't bring any lube...”

 

“Who's fault is that? You came in after me. Besides, you've kinda got a lube factory between your legs right now.”

 

“Ugh,” Peter groaned, shoving him slightly but in a way that Roman knew it was playful, “Why do you have to put it that way?”

 

“Sorry,” Roman chuckled. “But you do. I still think it's kinda hot.” Roman finally made his way towards the shower, pulling off his shirt and starting the water. “You can go get some, or you can join me right now.”

 

“Do you think it's big enough?” Peter asked, coming to stand next to him and watching as the water splashed against the bottom of the tub.

 

“It'll be a tight fit...you'll have to sit on my lap.”

 

Peter considered it, then decided he didn't want to walk outside with half a boner and Roman was already undressing. He, too, was half hard, and Peter was eager enough to forgo leaving the bathroom and undressed himself. Roman practically dragged him into the shower the minute he was undressed and it was running.

 

“You're okay, right?” Roman asked, as though it was an afterthought.

 

“Yeah, what do you mean?”

 

“I just mean...you were sick yesterday. You're not still sick, are you?”

 

“If I was sick I would've told you to fuck off. I'm fine,” he said, dragging Roman down to his level to kiss him again. As it was, Peter was mostly the one getting the brunt of the spray. Roman held him close, wrapping his arms around him and displaying a supreme amount of passion. He honestly wondered what had gotten into him this early in the morning, but it wasn't like Peter hadn't woken Roman up yesterday and demanded dick. It almost didn't seem like yesterday with how everything had gone down. Their sudden departure, his spontaneous sickness, the fear of early labor which Peter was quite convinced had died down, as he had no more pain, shitting on the floor like an animal.

 

Roman resumed jerking his cock, but only for a few moments. He slipped his hands between his legs, tentatively as though he was waiting for Peter's permission. He gave it by spreading his legs further, and Roman delved between them and pushed his fingers into him. He knew what Roman wanted, or rather he thought he did. He needed to touch him enough to get him to start producing lubricant. It was really bizarre, the knowledge that Roman was gathering something from this unnatural hole just so he could shove it in his ass. Bizarre as it was, Peter felt a low heat of arousal build in his stomach when Roman entered him. He wasn't sure why; he didn't really like having things put in there, because he didn't feel all that much there to begin with unless it was something or vibrating. But there was something about the knowledge that Roman, for some godawful reason, seemed to enjoy it. He couldn't exactly fathom what Roman found sexy about a leaking birth canal but more power to him.

 

 

But Roman was doing an okay job and working him up even from a spot that he didn't actually like. He did cause little sparks of pleasure to run up his spine when he'd go deeper, making his breath hitch and his hips tilt towards Roman's fingers, drawing him in deeper out of pure instinct. Roman suddenly pulled out, gesturing for Peter to sit down with him. Getting on the ground was kind of a pain in the ass. Roman had his legs as wide as he possibly could to give Peter enough room to get into his lap. He ended up sitting on his thighs, with his cock pressed against Roman's as he reached behind him, between his legs, to gather the leaking fluid there and draw it up higher to work his fingers into the place Peter _actually_ wanted him to go. It felt strange, at first. This liquid was thicker, and warm from his own body. It took a moment for his body to relent, to let Roman enter him once more, but once he did he could enjoy it more.

 

 

He leaned his forehead against Roman's, breathing out quiet sighs of pleasure as he rocked his hips back onto Roman's fingers, and when he moved forward he could easily grind his cock against Roman's cock as well. It was a thing of mutual pleasure, and he could hear him let out labored breaths each time Peter rocked forward. Roman wrapped his arm around Peter's back with the other hand, to hold him there and secure him while Peter secured himself by gripping Roman's shoulders. It was quiet and intimate, and wet but that was a different thing. Roman would occasionally lean up to kiss him, as it was Peter who was much higher than he was now. He was practically kneeling, though he still rested his own thighs against Roman's.

 

Roman seemed to be satisfied with preparation, reaching between his legs once more to try to gather enough lubrication but he seemed to be having trouble. Annoyed, Peter raised himself up long enough to lower himself onto Roman's cock, into the place that was currently oozing fluid, so that he wouldn't have to try to gather it all by hand in this bizarre position. Roman sucked in a breath, jerking his hips forward and unintentionally slamming his cock into the back wall. It hurt a bit, but also felt good. Regardless, this isn't where he wanted to be fucked. He raised himself up again and moved forward, straddling his lap and reaching below him to grip his cock. He eased himself down once more and found it relented far less than the other hole, but he managed. Slowly, and with great concentration, he eased himself down until he was sheathed. He felt Roman's hand slide down his side, until it was gripping his ass and thigh area, still holding him close with the other arm. When he felt comfortable enough to ignore the uncomfortable intrusion, he brushed his hands along the side of Roman's face, gripping him under the chin and tilting his head up to kiss him. His other arm wrapped around his back so he could feel more secure.

 

“This is weird,” Peter mumbled, parting from his lips momentarily to speak.

 

“I gave you the option...” Roman responded, and Peter felt him shift beneath him, his hand running along the dampened skin of his back. He was trying to go deeper even though he couldn't. “I'm surprised you stopped caring, honestly.”

 

“Stopped caring about what?”

 

“Your...you know,” he said, “Never thought you'd just shove my dick in there without me having to ask.”

 

“It was just more convenient, you were taking too long.”

 

The position they were in was not entirely conducive to good sex, and Peter really had to time the way he moved. He rolled his hips forward, and Roman thrust up. It was, at first, somewhat disjointed. They were not moving at the right time. After they built up a sufficient rhythm, Peter enjoyed it a lot more. Still leaning against Roman's forehead, he emitted quite moans, exchanging them with Roman's, breathing them in and giving away his own. Kissing him every so often, to breathe in deep and shuttered breaths through his nostrils and into Roman's mouth. He gripped Roman tightly, ran his fingers through the wetness of his hair and the longer they went, the more it felt like he couldn't get enough of him. Instead of kissing him lightly, he kissed him desperately. Almost relying on the air he breathed to get him by. He was grasping at the skin of his back, slipping and scratching in the wetness from the shower. He was close, but he needed to be closer.

 

 

When Roman angled himself correctly at last, to brush hard against his prostate, Peter was forced to break away. To tilt his head back, arch closer to him and birth a strangled moan that seemed to want to cling to the inside of his chest. His lungs clenched, the expression caught there until they released, until he breathed. Desperate and yearning for more. He forced himself against Roman again, chasing that pleasure and breathing out audible sighs, hitched, wavering and high-pitched. Roman, ever the vampire, used this to get at his neck again. He was obsessed with it, but Peter held him there and let him bite and suck at his skin. Threading his fingers through his hair and holding so hard he knew he was pulling it. He needed _more_ , and he held him close; as close as he could so that Roman could actually fuck him. He buried Roman's face in his neck, his collar bone, his shoulder; wherever Roman decided to get his mouth, and held him.

 

 

He could feel him breathe against his skin, and he used it to ground himself to reality. He was close, and he felt like he was falling. Today, for some reason, he was sensitive. Roman felt so _good_ in him, and it felt so good to hold him. He was overwhelmed, being so close, by his very presence. His lungs struggled to take in air as he sighed with pleasure, carrying soft curses on their backs. He had truly tried to be quiet, but lately he failed in that aspect. He'd been far more sensitive now that his testicles had made their way near his prostate, give or take. It gave him that full body ecstasy that made his thighs shake hard and he struggled to hold on because he felt like his body was about to give out beneath him.

 

“Come on,” Roman mumbled, leaning his face away from his skin for a moment to speak. “C'mon, baby.”

 

Peter was at first taken aback, because Roman had never once called him 'baby', and for a split second he found it weird. He laughed lightly, in-between strangled moans until he was directly on the edge. Here, about to be pushed over into absolute ecstasy, he felt such a strong connection and desire to be with him that it completely overwhelmed him. It was like his brain short-circuited for a second and as he came it was not so much about pleasure, but companionship and intimacy.

 

“I fucking love you,” Peter whimpered, shaking and panting as shockwave after shockwave shot through his body and he felt like he was about to implode. He felt such an intense surge of dopamine at the moment that his brain didn't know what to do, and as he still worked through his own orgasm his body no longer shook with pleasure, but because suddenly he was crying. There he was, holding Roman so tightly that even after he came in him he refused to let him go. Head tilted back, shoving his face into his neck so hard that if Roman could die from suffocation he might have at this moment.

 

Roman finally yanked his head away from Peter's neck, raising a hand to run along his cheek and through his hair. He managed to dislodge himself, and Peter sat against his thighs in a way that didn't involve this moment being spoiled by the fact that his colon felt irritated more and more by the second with Roman's now softening cock just sitting in him like that. Roman was able to spread his legs enough so that Peter could sit between them, wrapping his thighs around his waist and leaning forward against him.

 

“I love you too,” Roman said, lowering his head to kiss his neck lightly. Not in a sexual way, but one of intimacy because Peter had his face buried in Roman's shoulder. He was holding him close, his hand buried in his hair and his arms around his waist. “I love you so much...”

 

He stroked his hair lightly, now just petting him as a form of comfort it seemed. Kissing him softly against the side of his neck, his jaw, and his cheek every so often.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked, and Peter finally sat up.

 

“I just...” he wasn't actually crying much anymore, but he still sniffled slightly as he wiped at his eye with the back of his hand. Everything was wet anyway, but he felt wetter. “I got overwhelmed.”

 

“Didn't know my dick could bring someone to tears,” he said jokingly, still running his hand through his hair, getting stuck every five seconds but doing it anyway. He leaned into it regardless. Annoying as it was to have his hair pulled, he liked it.

 

“It wasn't your dick,” he scoffed, but still he leaned heavily against Roman like he was trying to merge with him. “I just...I don't know. You were so close to me. I mean, it's not like the first time we've fucked close, obviously...but I really liked it. I _really_ liked it. I felt like I couldn't get close enough to you. Then you got me off, and it felt so good, and I felt _so_ fucking happy.” He let out a quiet, annoyed sigh and nuzzled into Roman's neck slightly. “I'm a fucking mess. I don't want to be like this forever.”

 

“You don't want to love me?” Roman asked, and he could hear the fear and hesitation in his voice.

 

“I don't want to cry when I have sex. Although I won't deny, the orgasms are great. I'll never have that again...”

 

“I could keep knocking you up to give you good orgasms,” Roman said, chuckling.

 

“Fuck. Off,” Peter said, pulling away. “Not worth it.” He ran his hand along his neck, noticing the slight soreness there. “What is your obsession?” he asked, gesturing to where it felt like there was probably another fucking hickey.

 

“I'm an upir,” he said with a shrug. Roman took the chance to run his hand up Peter's stomach, and it was mostly to gather what Peter had spurted all over it, in some really bizarre, kind of gross way of cleaning him. He gathered it with his hand and then held it beneath the spray to wash it down the drain. “She's calmed down,” he stated offhandedly.

 

“She does that. It's like it rocks her to sleep or something.”

 

“Maybe I should just fuck you all the time so she'll sleep,” Roman said, dislodging himself from Peter finally and standing. He reached down to help him up afterwards.

 

“You just want to get laid,” Peter said, helping himself up using Roman's arm.

 

“You don't?”

 

“I do. Constantly, it's annoying.”

 

“Win-win, then.” Roman said, smirking and giving him a quick peck.

 

Getting out was more awkward than getting in. Peter, once again clad in a shirt and boxers, forgot to put on pants due to the fact that he once again heard speech from the other room. Any sane person would immediately go put on pants but the fact of the matter was that Peter felt so comfortable at the moment he almost didn't notice. Andreas was sitting next to Destiny, who seemed perturbed by something.

 

“Hey Peter, maybe I should switch to the other team too, huh?” Andreas said jokingly, and Destiny elbowed him in the arm and put her face in her hands.

 

“Uh...what?” Peter asked, not sure what the fuck he was talking about.

 

“You were _really_ loud,” Destiny clarified.

 

“You heard that...?”

 

“Lynda probably heard that, and no I wasn't on the phone with her. Jesus Christ, Peter. Did you at least clean up in there?”

 

As embarrassed as Peter was, he still ventured over to the couch and sat down. He noticed he'd lost Roman somewhere from the bathroom to the living room, assuming he must have stopped by the bedroom.

 

“No, I thought I'd just leave jizz stains all over the shower curtain,” Peter quipped.

 

“At least it's not shit stains,” Destiny responded.

 

“That was uncalled for...” Peter mumbled, averting his gaze from her.

 

“Sorry...Andreas brought you a ... _gift_ ,” Destiny said, seeming both slightly ashamed and impressed by whatever Andreas had managed to procure.

 

“You did?” Peter asked, more confused than anything.

 

“Destiny told me everything yesterday before she kicked me out. So let's just say...a lot of trucks are going to be missing their inventory.”

 

“He robbed a Babies R Us truck. Several, actually. I wouldn't have let him in if he hadn't come here with an entire car full of stolen baby goods.”

 

“You didn't tell anyone else, did you...?” Peter asked nervously.

 

“Nah, I just told the guys that it was for Destiny.”

 

“You did _what_?” Destiny asked. “Andreas, you know I'm not pregnant.”

 

“We can work on that,” Andreas responded. Destiny laughed slightly, and it seemed as though he was quickly winning her over again. “Besides, we can just say it's early planning, right?”

 

“I guess...”

 

 

Roman suddenly ventured into the living room, speaking from the hallway before he actually entered. Peter heard him way before he saw him.

 

“Hey, why the fuck is there an entire baby store in the bedroom?” he asked, rounding the corner and mumbling a quiet 'Oh' as he saw Andreas. Peter noticed he was carrying Nadia, and had an empty bottle and formula mixture under one arm. He noticed as he made his way to the kitchen, with Nadia still in his arms, and Peter wasn't having any of that.

 

“Roman,” he called to him, causing him to stop.

 

“What?”

 

“Give her to me. Stop trying to make shit harder for yourself.”

 

“I can do it...” Roman mumbled, but still relented and handed Nadia to Peter. He didn't set her on his lap, rather next to his hip, keeping an arm around her so that she didn't fall or try to escape.

 

“She's getting too big for you to keep carrying her like that,” Peter said, absentmindedly thumbing her shoulder as he turned to speak to him. Roman only scoffed at him. Peter was about to say something back when he let out a hiss of pain as he felt his daughter kick him on the inside again. God damn it, he'd just gotten her to sleep.

 

“Peter?” Destiny asked, clearly noticing it.

 

“She's doing it again. I'm fine.”

 

“Do you want me to take Nadia?” she asked, but Peter only shook his head.

 

“Roman will get her in a minute.”

 

“I'm going as fast as I can,” Roman called from the kitchen.

 

Nadia suddenly turned towards him, and to his surprise, started with grasping at his shirt. She relented with this soon, and settled by actually pressing on his stomach with her hand. It scared him at first, because he wasn't sure if she would hurt the baby, but she was gentle enough. She was a baby, she wasn't that strong to begin with. He was glad her psychokinetic abilities had worn off for the time being because he wasn't sure what kind of damage she could cause with that.

 

“That's adorable,” Destiny said with fondness. Peter noticed, moments later, that she was filming him.

 

“Really?” Peter asked, raisin a brow at her in annoyance.

 

“It's for your mother. Is she still moving?”

 

“As always,” Peter responded, sounding exasperated and tired.

 

“Lift up your shirt, then.”

 

 

Peter wanted to fight her on this, but he gave up. It was for his mother, he was sure she'd like to see her moving. Nadia still laid her hand against his stomach, almost like she knew. It was a bit odd for him because he let no one touch his stomach skin to skin if he could, but Nadia was...different. She didn't have a concept of why he didn't like to be touched. He watched and felt as the baby shifted beneath his skin once more; a visible display of life. But as Roman finally ventured into the living room, he was there to bare witness to something strange along with the rest of the room. It seemed as though from the inside, his daughter very pointedly reached out her hand to touch Nadia's. Nadia, in turn, grasped her sister's hand the best she could through skin, muscle, and adipose. It was such a strange gesture that Peter wasn't even sure how to react; no one was. The likelihood of it happening, and him seeing it happen, seemed so rare that it brought the room to silence. Nadia was so oblivious to what she was causing it seemed, though Peter knew she was incredibly smart. When Roman sat down next to her, she abandoned Peter and turned to Roman, quickly grasping the bottle he held in his hand and devouring it. His daughter soon turned away, moving into a completely different position as though she had no reason to face Nadia anymore.

 

 

He slid his shirt down after Destiny put her phone away, and looked at her for a moment, trying to form a hundred different questions into words.

 

“Does that...happen often?” he finally settled on.

 

“I don't think I've ever seen it,” she said. She laughed, and it was breathless and in awe. “I can't believe I got it on video.”

 

“Shit,” Andreas mumbled, leaning back into the couch to run a hand through his hair. He seemed lost for words, too. “You really weren't kidding,” he finaly said.

 

“So you went out and got a shit ton of baby stuff with the knowledge that I might be fucking with you?” Destiny asked.

 

“I mean I believed you, but seeing it is something else.”

 

Peter felt a bit awkward suddenly being the center of attention, but Roman calmed him by putting his arm around him and pulling him close. Nadia settled in Roman's lap, sitting somewhat close to Peter but far more interested in the formula. He relented, at this point, with Roman laying his hand against the side of his stomach. He was comfortable for the minute and dozed off sitting against him. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep when he woke up later on the couch to find Nadia sleeping against his stomach, and Roman gingerly trying to wake him up.

 

“You might want to put some pants on,” Roman said after he got his bearings.

 

“Fuck, I forgot I wasn't wearing any...” he mumbled.

 

“I don't think anyone here cares but Doctor Warren wants to come over. I think Shelley's coming with her.”

 

“Take your child,” Peter said with a stretch, easing Nadia back against Roman so he could stand. He had second thoughts about saying that out loud, but Destiny and Andreas were in the kitchen talking among themselves and had not been paying attention. Roman followed him into the bedroom to put Nadia down properly, and thankfully she didn't have much trouble falling back asleep.

 

When Warren arrived, they exchanged brief pleasantries and she asked him how he was doing. He was thankful to say he had been doing a lot better than before. Shelley was indeed with her, but he knew her time there would be somewhat short. Because of this, Peter allowed her to stay in the room (which much more conveniently was the bedroom) while Warren examined him.

 

“No more pain?” she asked, setting up her laptop and probe.

 

“Just the pain of getting kicked all the time.”

 

“Good, you've likely gotten it all out of your system.”

 

Shelley seated herself at the far edge of the bed, as far away from Peter as she could, seemingly to be respectful of his space. Roman, however, sat right next to him. As always, he held his hand even though Peter didn't need it. Warren cleared some space on the side table and tilted the laptop so they could see it, even though Peter knew nothing much would change that he could _actually_ see. It was still nice to see. He hadn't much minded yesterday due to the fact that he felt like shit.

 

“Can you pull up your shirt for me?”

 

He did, somewhat hesitantly as Shelley was sitting there but she already knew he was pregnant, he just didn't like people seeing it. Warren spread the gel on him moments later and he shivered slightly at the coldness of it. As usual, the ultrasound itself was somewhat uncomfortable. He never liked the feeling of the probe pressing on his abdomen. It made him have to pee not to mention that it sort of hurt.

 

“Her heart rate's back to normal,” she said, examining the monitor closely.

 

“Do you have any idea when she's due, yet?”

 

“I'm not quite sure...I can tell you there's been very little development in the past three days. If anything, she seems like a normal baby. I know she's not but...” she paused, moving the probe. “Yeah. No abnormalities, slightly small but well developed.”

 

Peter looked away from the screen long enough to glance down at the edge of the bed, noticing Shelley was practically beaming at the monitor. It made him smile slightly, her excitement at the whole thing. The whole thing was over as quick as it started, and Peter was cleaning himself up with a Kleenex and sitting up. Roman was kind of all over him. The minute he was up, Roman leaned over to kiss him, and he was gripping his hand tightly. It was becoming more apparent by the day how in love with him Roman was. He could understand his extra affection here as it seemed every time he saw his daughter he fell in love with Peter more. He'd known Roman to be cold in the past, and distant. Not overly affectionate, but he had definitely grown warmer around Peter. For a split second Peter thought he didn't quite deserve him. He loved him, but he also knew he wasn't entirely sure how he felt. To think of a life that wasn't loving Roman seemed worse than simply being confused, though. He was content for the moment to lean against him, but Peter realized that eventually, this may change. Peter had never really been a cuddler, simply content to lay on his back next to whatever lover he was with or be the big spoon, but all the estrogen in his brain really made him want to be held.

 

Their visit was unfortunately short, and Peter didn't talk to Shelley that much. They exchanged pleasantries, talked about the future, etcetera. It felt weird to Peter. He just wasn't sure what to say to her, anymore. It seemed easier when he barely knew her, when things were easy in high-school and he could almost be like a second big brother to her. Truly, he liked Shelley, he was just scatterbrained, and so much had happened, so much had changed. She wasn't a young girl anymore and he wasn't a naive young boy who hadn't been burdened by death, kidnapping, pain and sudden pregnancy. Nevertheless, he hugged her tightly as she left with Warren, as did Roman.

 

He spent the rest of the day with Destiny and Andreas, who had for the moment at least been taken back into the home without too much anger but Destiny still seemed wary about it. It was far better than the day before. They could just hang out together and although Roman was kind of a third wheel in this family function, he seemed to fit in alright. He could see, throughout the day, Destiny becoming won over little by little the more she watched Roman with him. He caught her watching with such fondness at points, like she could see something that had probably been there all along but the two of them had finally stopped fucking around and were both mutually lovers.

 

 

Later that night, when everyone had gone to bed, Roman had fucked him once more and kept his hand over his mouth. It was awkward and stealthy because Nadia was asleep in the corner of the room, and Peter's only saving grace was that it was incredibly dark and there'd be no way she could see them, he just hoped she didn't' hear them. She made nothing known that she was awake at any point, but it was lowkey regardless. It was quiet, slow and sweet. When Roman wasn't covering his mouth he was kissing him, hidden beneath the blankets and surrounding him with such incredible warmth. Peter, ever the emotional bitch, cried after he came. He held him closely after he'd dislodged and laid next to him, and for a moment Roman said and did nothing but stroke his hair and wrap his arms around him.

 

It took quite a few minutes for Peter to calm down but once he had, he spoke to him, muffling his speech with the side of his chest and making Roman second-guess what he'd heard.

 

“What do you think about Nicole?”

 

“What?” Roman asked, craning his neck downwards to look at him. “Nicole who?”

 

“Nicole Rumancek, you twat. I meant for a name.”

 

Roman chuckled and let out a low and long hum in thought. “Why Nicole?”

 

“After Nicolae... Unless there's someone close to you in your family you'd want to honor with a name.”

 

“The only people I really care about in my family is Letha and Shelley...and it probably isn't wise to name the baby after them. Especially Letha. I had a sister named Juliet...but she died after birth, and it's probably best not to tempt fate...”

 

“So what do you think about Nicole?” Peter asked again.

 

“Nicole and Nadia...I think I like it.” Roman kissed him on the top of the head, running his hand through his hair as gently as possible. “If we ever have a boy, we can name it...Nathan. Norman...Nicolae.”

 

“You should stop planning for a boy,” Peter chuckled. “You really want to do all N names?”

 

“Well, we've got a theme going now. We can't break it. We could call her Nikki for short...”

 

“Nikki and Nadia...” Peter mumbled. “It's cute.”

 

It was quiet for a moment and Peter had drifted off to sleep, awoken by Roman speaking to him. He asked a question that, at first, both confused and terrified him.

 

“What do you think about...marriage?” he asked.

 

“Are you proposing to me...?” Peter responded, sounding skeptical.

 

“No. Just wondering what you think of it.”

It was quiet again, enough to hear a pin-drop while Peter thought on the idea.

 

“It's a solid maybe...for now. I don't know how I'll be after my head clears up.”

 

Roman didn't say much else on the matter, and the both of them ended up falling asleep shortly after. A dreamless, calm and uneventful sleep that would leave the two of them feeling fairly well rested. Perhaps the lack of vision was a vision in itself; a prophecy, as the two of them usually had. The following days were nothing but calm. Each day, Warren would visit, and give them no new information other than the baby was healthy. After a week had passed, she'd finally given her answer.

 

Three and a half months, give or take, was how long he had left. The baby, or Nikki as they now affectionately called her, had stopped growing. Not in a way that was dangerous, but rather she was now growing normally. It seemed as though it had been a race to the sixth month, where she was slightly more viable, and her growth slowed to a normal pace. With this knowledge now in hand, the two of them had no true reason to stick around any longer. They knew staying for a week was risky, but they had been waiting for answers. The longer they stayed, the more danger they were in. With a heavy heart the both of them realized they needed to once more say goodbye and get back on the road.

 

Before they made their arrangements to leave, Roman made a rather bizarre arrangement of his own. There was still the nature of his house and two strangers currently living in it. Roman agreed to let them stay there if they would be bait. It would draw attention to the house for a while so that Roman could leave stealthily without much notice, they hoped. Lana and Cassidy were far stronger than Peter was in this situation. If they were to be attacked, he knew they could defend themselves. Evidently, this was fine to them. They'd left what was once their home on the side of the road hours away, and free room and board at Roman's house was far better than nothing. He'd set up a deal with Pryce to have nutrient delivered so they wouldn't have to hunt and draw too much attention to themselves.

 

On the morning they left Pryce had brought the van back to the house. It had been fixed; there were no longer deep scratches, dents, or sprays of blood along the wheel-wells. Leaving was harder than they'd imagined. Peter was distraught at having to leave Destiny behind, but it was obvious. Roman showed little to no emotion until they actually left. Until he was looking in his rear-view mirror, watching the town grow smaller behind him. Knowing what he was leaving; his sister, his daughter...He cried when the town was now invisible to them in the mirror, and all there was was foreign road littered with grass and trees. No life, no family, just trees. He cried until Peter was seriously considering driving for him because he wasn't sure he could see. No matter what he did, Peter would try to be there for him. With one hand on the wheel, the other beside him as Peter grasped his hand in sympathy.

 

“We'll be back,” Peter said, quietly stroking the flesh of his hand.

 

“I know...” he muttered. “I know, I just wish she could be with us.”

 

Peter did not respond, knowing that anything he had to say would be effectively useless. Roman had the right to be upset and to grieve at his own process. So instead, he kept quiet, held his hand tightly and watched the trees and highway lines pass by. They drove, in silence and towards and uncertain future.

 

 

_**ART:[CLICK FOR FULL VIEW](https://i.gyazo.com/78c2e3ef1a755a412ba014ce5c044f50.png)** _

 

_**it's just shower sex** _

_**** _

 


	25. Breaking Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit been goin' too smooth had to rough it up 
> 
> sorry this chap is kind of... again, like the last chap...sort of a bridge towards another chap which, in turn, will bridge to the third chap which may be pretty long 
> 
> so i am trying to put slightly smaller chapters between 
> 
> anyway i kinda had to lengthen this with a bj sorry
> 
> also, there's art at the bottom 
> 
> IT'S IMPORTANT ART, BUT IT'S IN A LINK

Nearly two months had passed since Roman and Peter had fled once again into the wilds of the great unknown, and as much as they would have liked their presence did not go unnoticed. In the once populated Godfrey Mill, something was stirring. Long had it's previous homeless residents evacuated, as Olivia had tightened her grip on it with the police. True, she no longer owned this town but there were still some people too afraid to get on her bad side. She still had confidantes at the station. Ones that kept out of the way when she'd come and go, and ignored the blood splattered ceilings deep within the mill. They did not turn their heads as she now sat there, as she'd done several times over the past few years. Like her own little meeting place. Clad in white, perched on a chair with her legs crossed and waiting. Like her own little kingdom, and her own throne, waiting for her subjects.

 

 

She was still, unnerved by the footsteps that made their way through rubble and dust. Soft at first, walking through the refuse, then clicking upon the once unbroken concrete floors. A shadow clad in black, with dark skin and a soul of malice stepped through the ruined doorway.

 

“Ms Godfrey...nice to finally meet you,” she said.

 

“Trinity, I presume?” Olivia asked. When she spoke it was as though everything she spoke to was beneath her, but Trinity held her tongue about it.

 

“You would presume right.”

 

“Your Order has failed me,” she said, sparking up a cigarette and taking a long drag from it as she spoke. Each puff and draw seeming to accentuate every statement.

 

“That's not my Order anymore, and you know that. If you didn't you wouldn't have invited me,” Trinity said with an air of irritation.

 

“Yes,” she responded. “I know.” Another puff of her cigarette, another exhale. “You're a very hard woman to track down.”

 

“That's because I don't want to be found.”

 

“Then maybe you should do better at it? Because I found you far before I found my wayward son.”

 

“Get to the point,” Trinity spat. “Why am I here?”

 

“You're here because The Order cares more about this...silly little threat of the apocalypse than it does getting my son back to me. It's not like this isn't all going to blow over,” she scoffed.

 

“Well, I think the Order cares more about that than the worries of some helpless mother sitting around in dark, dank places.”

 

“I came to ask you a favor, not to listen to you berate me. I could end you in a second, don't test me. You want to kill that ...disgusting cur, don't you?”

 

“Yeah, that's one thing you've got right about me.”

 

“Then let me help you find him. I can pay you, handsomely if-,”

 

“I know you're broke, Ms Godfrey. I know who wears the pants. I don't care about the money. This is about the principal of it now. I want to finish my mission, with or without the Order.”

 

“Very well...” she said between a clenched jaw. “Then I'd hope you'd _understand_ why you're here.”

 

“You have information,” Trinity said, deadpan.

 

“Aren't you smart?” Olivia said, malice and mocking dripping from her words. “But before I give you this information, I have conditions.”

 

“You know, I don't _have_ to listen to you. I could just find them on my own.”

 

“If you leave, you'll die. Do you understand?” Olivia asked, clearly done with this girl's games. “I'm not above slitting your throat and draining you dry right here if you don't stop with this nonsense. You're useless to me if you don't do what I ask. I could care less if you live or die, and believe me; you will die. Your arm is still injured from whatever fight I'm sure you got into with my son. You won't stand a chance. Now, do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?”

Trinity swallowed, her face showing no true emotion other than a vague nervousness, but still she nodded. “Okay, let's try your way.”

 

“Now that wasn't so hard, was it?” Olivia mocked. “My conditions are this; do what you want with the whore and his spawn, but do _not_ kill my son. I know you've already tried. I'm willing to forgive this for now but if I find out you've killed him, I'll come for you next.”

 

“You do know that he's attached to that boy at the hip, don't you? I mean, I'll kill him, sure, but your boy isn't going to just roll over and play nice for you once Peter is dead.”

 

“That's _not_ part of your job, is it? I don't need you to tell me that Roman is a difficult child. I'll find ways of dealing with him afterwards... Do we have a deal?”

 

“We have a deal,” Trinity grumbled.

 

“Good...There are spies in the Institute. I know they were here. I also know that as of nearly two months ago that there are only three and a half months until this disgusting little cretin is born. Pryce shouldn't have left a paper trail... Either way, that means you have about one month to stop this. Kill him before the child is born, then make sure the child doesn't survive. I've also found out he cannot tolerate blood. It can make him both temporarily aggressive and very ill. What you do with this information is up to you.”

 

“How is it you've got so many spies?” Trinity asked.

 

“I have my ways,” Olivia said coyly, with a disarming smile. It did nothing to disarm Trinity, it only made her more suspicious.

 

“So how does this help me find them?”

 

“With this,” Olivia said, handing her a piece of paper. On it were a set of coordinates. “They were last seen here, a couple of days ago. Use this to your advantage.”

 

“Why don't you just kill him yourself?”

 

“Because Roman would hardly forgive me for killing his boy toy right in front of him, would he?No, this has to be done by someone else. I can't be involved.”

 

“I think he'll realize you were involved one way or another,” With that, she turned from Olivia and headed for the door. “Thanks for the info, though. You'll get your boy back...hopefully. Probably not. One thing's for sure though, one of them's going to end up dead.”

 

“And if one of them is my son, you'll die too.”

 

“Got it,” Trinity said, and with that she left.

 

Olivia was left there in the silence of the mill once more. Oh, how clever Roman thought he was, but he was wrong. That decoy at his old house only lasted for so long. No matter the girls he'd picked up and kept there, they probably knew nothing. He was sure he hadn't told them were he was going; they were useless to her. She simply could not bother.

 

The boy could have at least switched vehicles. True, the once damaged van was now repared but it was the same vehicle regardless. Olivia guessed that the Institute did not have a surplus off vans, though. Not like that; not big enough for them to live their lives in. She couldn't believe her son was stooping this low. Living in a van with that filthy gypsy boy, when he should be home with her. Or rather ,at least running the Institute properly. Instead he was gallivanting around the country, sleeping in cold vehicles, probably hadn't had a decent shower in months. Olivia couldn't comprehend how he could give up what he already had for that boy. No son of hers would be out doing that shit without consequence. He would learn, and if he did not she would break him with her mind. True, he would fight her. He'd try to lock her out with his own mind control, but she was stronger than him. Older, with more wisdom.

 

 

She would rather not, however, because she was not quite sure what it would do to him in the long run. As a human he was far more easy to manipulate, but as an upir? She knew he was stronger than before, knew he had a way to keep her out. The fact of the matter was if he fought her too hard he might actually fry his own brain and she'd be left with a drooling invalid. At least he wouldn't run, though. She tossed her cigarette to the ground, standing and scuffing it out with her boot as she headed out towards the car. Back to that horrible apartment she was forced to stay in, because of the son who she was so desperately trying to win back. As much as she hated it, he was the only one who could continue their line. Olivia was convinced that one day he would, maybe with one of those upir girls he'd kept at the house. Then she would _definitely_ have a pure upir grandchild. One that could breed, continue the lineage... Yes, perhaps she should try to get in on their good graces.

 

 

Far from Hemlock Grove and his mother's insidious scheming, Roman was practically oblivious to anything that was to come. He had been far too concerned about Peter. Since they left it had been...interesting. To their luck, at least, the flying hellbeasts (or Jormundpir, as Pryce had begun calling them for reasons he hadn't really disclosed to them yet) seemed to have begun migrating, looking for a larger foodsource perhaps. That meant he saw far less of them on his travels. Businesses were beginning to open their doors once more, towns were more populated. But that was also a problem... Peter was getting a lot of stares, lately. He knew that Peter himself didn't like to be stared at, but Roman didn't like it either. He didn't like it; he didn't know which one of these motherfuckers might be feeding information back to his mother.

 

 

Peter, it seemed one morning (though he knew this wasn't true) simply woke up six sizes larger) thank God Andreas had given them those clothes. Both of them knew this wasn't the case at all. It was impossible, and yet it happened so fast that suddenly there was just no hiding it. Even beneath baggy clothes, though he wasn't _huge_ it was still noticeable. What made it so strange to anyone on the outside was that that was the only place he'd gained weight. The rest of him was still relatively thin, and being that he was so young seeing a guy with that kind of abdominal mass was a bit weird. Peter absolutely hated it.

 

 

Not only did he hate the stares, he hated it in general. It made him incredibly self conscious. He stopped undressing around Roman the minute it went from a slight protrusion to something way more noticeable. He had told him, time and time again that he didn't mind it, but Peter didn't budge. He had never really been comfortable with the whole thing to begin with. He knew, despite the fact that both of them truly loved their daughter already, that it was really fucking weird.

 

Their relationship had regressed almost. Still very much in love but Peter was less willing to have sex with him. This, despite the fact that he knew Peter was as horny as a kid going through puberty, he only relented occasionally and that was if it was on top, or from behind on his side, and he'd still keep a shirt on. Roman truly felt bad for him, despite the fact that he was occasionally hard to deal with. Suffering with more dysmorphia, moody as hell, exhausted, and occasionally, spontaneously incontinent. The last one, of all things, pissed Peter off the most. Roman was at first worried that somehow being pregnant had destroyed the inner workings of his body but apparently it was just a thing that happened during pregnancy.

 

 

But if wasn't spontaneously voiding excretory systems that pissed Peter off,it was something else. Peter was, at most times, pissed off. Pissed off or upset. It was awful for the both of them. The both of them truly knew they still loved each other but sometimes, Peter questioned it. On some days, when Peter went off on him for bullshit, Roman questioned it too. But then night would fall and usually by that point Peter would calm down; _usually_ , and Roman would remember as he laid with him why and how much he loved him. But Roman could only be pushed so far...

 

He couldn't remember how it started, he just remember suddenly being in the middle of a fight with him. So often his brain just went on autopilot and he ignored whatever hateful thing Peter decided to call him so he truly had no idea what started it. Ignoring him, possibly, could've been what it was.

 

“I can't fucking stand you sometimes,” Peter said to him, sitting in the chair next to the window of the motel they currently stayed in. He was avoiding looking at Roman for the most part, who stood in the center of the room and glared daggers at him.

 

“What the fuck have I done to you, Peter, that's _so_ bad for you to treat me like this?” Roman knew, of course. He knew this wasn't Peter; this was hormones destroying his brain. He knew the reason well enough and yet he couldn't bring himself to accept it because he was pissed off as well.

 

“You did this!” Peter said, gesturing towards his own distended middle in anger. “You're the one who did this to me! You're the reason I'm so pissed off all the fucking time!”

 

“So, what, you'd rather this not happen at all? You want to tell me you don't love Nikki? It's not her fault, and it's not mine either. It's you.”

 

“Fuck you,” Peter spat, and for some reason that just pissed Roman off more. He knew what he'd said was mean but at the moment he didn't care. “Why do you love someone who's such a bitch to you, then? Do you still love me?” The way he said it wasn't with sadness, it was with anger. “Do you still love Nikki? Do you still want to marry me, like a fucking idiot, because I can't stand looking at you sometimes?”

 

“I don't know!” Roman shouted, and he could tell this one stung. He hadn't meant it, and the reality of what he said snapped him out of his anger. He realized that one was too far, even though it was just three simple words.

 

“Fuck you too, then,” Peter said, standing with some difficulty and heading for the door.

 

“Peter, wait, I fucked up. I'm sorry, you know I love you. C'mon, stay in here...please.”

 

“You can kiss my ass. I'm...I'm going out for some air,” Peter said, stopping at the door.

 

“You know it's dangerous out there.”

 

“What, standing outside a fucking motel? I'm fine. I'd rather get kidnapped right now than spend another second in this room with you,” he said, pushing past the door and and shutting it with a loud slam. Roman crossed the room, to sit where Peter had previously, to think about his mistakes. He felt like such an asshole. He wanted to blame Peter for this but he knew it wasn't his fault. He knew it when it started and he'd been too blinded by anger to really see it.

He wanted so badly to go to him, to apologize to him, but he knew that this soon Peter wouldn't accept it. He knew he didn't want to see him and Roman probably deserved that. He knew what he'd said wasn't much, just three words, but he knew they hurt. He'd hurt him, and it really broke him up inside with the knowledge that he remembered for a split second _wanting_ them to hurt. So all he could do is sit, and wait, and hope that Peter forgave him soon because he was getting antsy.

 

 

He was sitting there, head tilted back and staring at the ceiling, trying to forget the rest of the world for a minute. He only snapped back when he heard a distant rumble; it sounded like a motorcycle. For a moment he didn't realize the fear it put into him. It was instantaneous, but why did it frighten him? But then he remembered just _who_ owned a motorcycle. He quickly stood from the chair and rushed out the door, into the cooling night air. He must have looked a wreck; wide eyed and like maybe he was on crack or something. But to his relief, Peter was till there. He was sitting against the wall of their motel room next to the door, leaned against the wall and letting a cigarette burn out in-between his fingertips.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Roman breathed out, backing against the door until it closed. He knew Peter didn't want him out here but here he was. He could tell he was still kind of pissed, but he also could tell he'd been crying.

 

“What are you doing out here?” Peter mumbled, lifting the cigarette to his lips and taking in a draw. He exhaled shakily and Roman could see it in the stuttered way the cloud of smoke drifted into the night.

 

“I...I heard a motorcycle,” Roman said, sounding somewhat ashamed. The notion sounded ridiculous when he actually said it out loud. Peter didn't respond, and so Roman turned to go back inside to give him his space. At the last moment, Peter stopped him.

 

“Why would you say that to me?” he asked. He didn't sound angry, he just sounded sad and in disbelief.

 

“I don't know...I didn't mean it, but...sometimes you piss me off, alright? It's been hard for me this past month.”

 

“I'm sorry...” Peter muttered. It was dark, but Roman could still see even in the dim light of their window, and the tacky neon sign in the distance, that he was crying again. Or maybe he'd never stopped. He'd been facing towards the light before, though, and now he faced away. “I don't want to be like this.”

 

Roman, though he knew it was possibly a decision that might piss him off more, knelt down until he was sitting beside him. Nervous and hesitant, he put an arm around Peter's shoulders, and was at least relieved to find that instead of him chasing him away, he leaned into him. But it did seem to make him cry harder and he told Roman what was on his mind. It wasn't concise and clear; it was rather strung together loosely. Like something strung together with rotted twine and glue, barely holding together. “I don't know what's happening to me anymore. I don't know what's me, or what's just hormones. I don't know if I love you or resent you but I'm fucking stupid. I'm selfish, I don't want you to not love me. How hypocritical is that? How can I look at you and be so pissed off and expect you not to hate me? I mean at least...at least when I was turning wrong and pissed off, I felt sure of myself. I thought I was right but now I _know_ in the back of my mind that I'm wrong. I'm wrong, but I can't stop it. I don't want to be this thing...I don't want to fuck this up because I can't keep it together.”

 

Roman pulled him closer by wrapping his other arm around his front, pulling him into his side and holding him the best he could. It was awkward because the both of them had to stretch a bit to make it work, but it worked well enough.

 

“I know it's not your fault...” Roman said quietly, petting Peter's hair as he held him against his chest. “I shouldn't get pissed at you.”

 

“You should!” Peter retorted, “I'm a fucking asshole.”

 

“Okay, well even if I do get pissed at you, I don't hate you. Even after you came back and I tried to hate you, I couldn't. Should've known you'd come back somehow, get me into a whole bunch of shit,” Roman said sarcastically.

 

 

“You know this is going to happen again...”

 

“Yeah,” Roman said with a sigh. “I can take it, though.”

 

“Good,” Peter said, sniffling slightly. “'Cause I don't want you to leave me when she's born.”

 

“Why would I do that?”

 

“Because it'll be worse. I know I'll want to fucking kill you.”

 

“I know...I've seen all the movies, heard all the stories. I half expect you to tell me you're gonna rip off my balls or something.”

 

“I won't mean it,” Peter mumbled, leaning into his chest. “I mean...maybe, an eye for an eye. A ball for a ball.”

 

“Yours grow back. Mine don't.”

 

“I'm sorry...” Peter muttered again. “I love you, I'm sorry I'm such a bitch.”

 

“It's okay,” Roman responded quietly. “Do you want to go inside?”

 

“Yes,” Peter said, muffled by his face against the side of his chest.

 

“Okay, come on, you know the drill,” Roman said, getting into a sort of squatting position and putting his hand around Peter's lower back. Peter wrapped his arm around Roman's shoulders and he hoisted him up with some difficulty. It wasn't the first time he'd ended up on the floor like this and Roman knew by now that getting up on his own was pretty hard. He'd learned how to deal with it.

 

The sudden shift sent Roman tumbling back against the wall, luckily supported by it's weight but it sent Peter also falling against him. When the two of them righted themselves, Peter leaned up to kiss him. It was a slow and delicate thing at first, with Peter tentatively resting his hand on the front of Roman's shirt. It wasn't like they hadn't kissed before but each movement was calculated and uncertain for the both of them. After what had just happened, with what kind of mood swings he knew Peter had. This wasn't usually one of them, so he was hesitant to settle his hand on his hip and cup the side of his face with the other.

 

 

Peter was receptive though, and quickly melted into his touch, his kiss. He quickly drew away and lead him inside, where he proceeded to back Roman into the thankfully somewhat large chair and settle over his lap. He was balanced on his knees, albeit somewhat precariously, trying to keep his full weight off of him because he knew that Peter knew he was somewhat heavier now. He laid his hand on his shoulder, grasping tightly so that he wouldn't fall forward or backward, and used it as a counter-balance. But he kissed him with such need, and remorse. Roman wasn't disappointed. He buried his hands in his hair again, breathed in deep like he couldn't. For that moment it was so passion fueled he forgot Peter's aversion to sex, currently. The moment he rolled his hips against Peter's, he pulled away. Panting and avoiding his gaze.

 

“I can't...” he said, sounding ashamed. “I'm sorry.”

 

Roman let out a long exhale, running a hand over his face with a certain kind of exhaustion.

 

“Alright,” he said. He was frustrated, that was true, but he wasn't going to make Peter do anything he didn't want. “It's fine.” He hated how it sounded a little bitter, a little biting. He sighed and reached down to run his hand up Peter's side in a comforting manner. “I mean it.”

 

“Do you think you could manage to get me off the floor again?”

 

“Probably...why?”

 

“I don't want you to fuck me...you know why,” Peter said, easing himself off of Roman and doing the best he could to slide down off the chair and onto the floor without falling over. Peter had said sometimes he felt like he needed to learn how to walk and move all over again because every movement seemed unbalanced. But he managed, albeit awkwardly, to get onto the floor. Roman still felt his heart thud in his chest at the notion of it all. Like he hadn't fucked Peter a dozen times, he still felt week in the knees and breathless when he looked at him.

 

“Are you sure?” Roman asked, settling forward, to which Peter reached up to push him back slightly.

 

“Yeah..I never got to finish the last one.”

 

That he hadn't. Roman had never pressed the issue. He wasn't one of those people who just begged for blowjobs because he didn't like putting in the other half of the work. Truthfully, Roman derived a lot of his pleasure from getting Peter off. It was like some kind of strange thrill, because it hadn't been that way before. Roman didn't feel like he'd really ever felt so deeply for someone as he did for Peter, though. There was Miranda...that was true. He'd fucked her, he'd loved her, what they had was intimate but it was never as intimate as it was with the three of them. He shouldn't be thinking about Miranda when he was about to get his dick sucked.

 

Peter pulled Roman's hips forward by his belt, pulling it open with some difficulty due to his position. He leaned forward, leaning one hand on Roman's thigh while he pulled his jeans open with other. Even though Peter wasn't doing anything, Roman let his hands drift through his hair again. To cup the side of his face, run his thumb along his jaw. Peter looked up at him like some kind of angel. He had that kind of glow to him that pregnant people got, despite the fact that he didn't really understand it. Pale and radiant, gazing at him with a bright look of affection and lust. Peter really did have pretty eyes. He swallowed , watching as Peter bit down on the tip of his thumb lightly before he finally got his dick out. But just as pretty as he looked, Peter was ruined a bit of that beauty by spitting directly onto his dick. It wasn't a quick bit of saliva, either. It was the kind that refused to break and left him drooling for a minute before half of it ended up on his dick and the other half down his chin. He watched him unceremoniously wipe his face with the back of his hand and mutter out a 'Sorry'. Roman only laughed. Somehow, it was so right.

“You think that's funny, huh?” Peter asked, using the provided lubrication to jerk his cock. He looked at him with a bit of mischievousness that made Roman slightly nervous and also aroused. He found himself pushing his hips up, into his hand as he worked him with it.

 

“A little bit,” he replied, a smirk of sorts. A half-cocked grin of sated arousal and amusement.

 

“Why's it funny?”

 

“Because I was sitting here...” Roman cut himself off, biting back a moan and biting his lip. Though still, he managed to smile through it. “Sitting here thinking how pretty you looked. And then you just start drooling everywhere.”

 

“What, you don't think that's sexy?” Peter quipped.

 

“Oh, it gets me going like nothing else.”

 

Peter laughed slightly; a breathless and quiet sigh of amusement. Close to him now, Roman felt the heat of it against his cock and it sent a tingle of satisfaction into his groin. Peter lowered his head, to drag his tongue from the base of his cock to the head, still working him with his hand seconds later. He didn't take him in immediately. He licked up the side, closing his mouth along the side of the shaft and working his tongue from the inside. Once he reached the top again he took only the head into his mouth. He was fucking good with his tongue, while he bobbed his head slightly he swirled his tongue along the sides and dipped against the slit.

 

“Jesus fuck,” Roman breathed out, once again biting back a moan with his teeth in his lip. Breathing heavily and stuttered through his nostrils, chest and stomach clenching slightly with every pass. He still held onto Peter's hair and unintentionally pulled it slightly but Peter seemed to have no qualms. He finally sunk down, taking him as far as he could. Peter had said he was good at this, mentioned that he didn't usually gag on dick the one time he did it. He'd told him he didn't need to, then fucked him good but...he was right. He had been gifted, temporarily, the gift of not being nauseated and he really did take him down.

 

 

He swallowed around him as his cock touched the back of his throat, and used this in conjunction with the way he moved his head. Jesus Christ, Roman was overwhelmed. He'd had good blow jobs and he couldn't say that this was the _best_ blowjob he'd ever had, because it's not like he remembered, but it was pretty fucking good. Roman was impressed that he knew how to do this so well. He remembered trying to blow Peter and not being nearly as good at it. He didn't seem to mind when Roman thrust into his mouth, either. He simply let him until Roman very quickly was reaching the edge. He himself usually knew Peter's signs of getting off but he wasn't entirely sure if Peter knew his. But he breathed out in soft, high pitched sighs and leaned his head back against the chair, waiting. Instinctively he shifted his hips up, feeling that taut, tingling sort of feeling building deep in his groin and in his stomach and he had less control over it than before. But Peter suddenly stopped him, held his hips down with both hands and took him down as far as he could to swallow around him. Somehow, this seemed on purpose. Roman came down his throat with a strangled groan and fought beneath his hands to move despite the fact that he was stopping him. When he was done swallowing everything Roman had to give, he pulled away.

 

 

He coughed slightly, and Roman noticed his eyes were watering a bit. He looked somewhat unkempt from the whole ordeal. Brows furrowed in a slight wince, hair a mess, looking like he'd been crying but he knew that's not what it was.

 

“Are you okay?” Roman asked, tucking himself back in and leaning forward. His breathing was still a bit labored and uneven, and somehow even like this he still found Peter attractive.

 

“I think some of it went down wrong,” he replied, voice strained slightly before he went into another coughing fit.

 

“I'm sorry,” Roman said with a slight laugh. “You could've pulled off.”

 

“I was distinctly trying _not_ to,” Peter replied with one final cough. He raised up slightly and managed to drag himself onto the chair. He then braced on the arms and slowly eased himself back until he was standing. Roman reached out to grab his arms as he seemed somewhat unsteady at first but it didn't take him long to right himself.

 

Roman stood far faster, even after Peter had stood just fine he still stood beside him, hand hovering beside him just in case. Peter responded with an annoyed scoff and swatted his hand away.

 

“Dude, you gonna follow me into the other room and watch me take a piss? I don't need an entourage.”

 

“Alright,” Roman said, watching as he left. It was already late, they had an early day tomorrow of leaving and traveling to the next town, or the next side of the road; the same thing, over and over and fucking exhausting but it had to happen. He turned off the rest of the lights, then headed off to bed. He waited for Peter, and when he returned he turned the light off by the bed and drowned them in darkness. In silence he settled on the edge of the bed and rolled onto it, facing away from him. Tentatively, thinking that his anger had passed, Roman laid a hand on his hip, which Peter quickly shut that shit down. He smacked him away but then let out a sigh,

“Please...I need to sleep, okay? I need to get up early.”

“Okay,” Roman said, quietly and more to the darkness and himself than Peter. He rolled over towards the opposite wall, facing it and staring at the patterns until they became dancing, swirling faces in the dark. A trick of the mind; something to distract him from everything else if just more a moment. He fell asleep to the hypnosis of those swirling patterns. Into a dreamless sleep, to be awoken by the sound of quiet sobbing.

 

It took him a minute to realize what he was hearing. The fog of sleep so heavy and etched into every crease of his brain he could not comprehend his surroundings. But he did see Peter sitting up finally, and he scooted over towards him. The hesitation to touch him was strong; his hand outstretched but he let it fall beside him instead of touching him.

 

“What is it?” Roman asked, at first thinking to ask if he was okay but he knew the answer to that.

 

“I don't know...” Peter said, swinging his legs back over so that he was actually fully in bed again. “I really don't.” Roman sat up with him, as Peter buried his face in his knees and let out the most pathetic and upsetting sobbing noise. Wet and filled with anguish and confusion. “I'm gonna go crazy before this is over.”

 

“It's almost over,” Roman said, and even though Peter might not want him to touch him, he did hold him. Sat next to him and pulled him close out of pure instinct. “This will end. You'll get over this.”

 

“What if I don't?” Peter said in barely a whisper. His voice shook and sounded so small as he said it. “I mean ...postpartum is a thing.”

 

“But that ends, too. I'll be there for it. If you need me to take care of Nikki, you know...and you just need rest, I'll do it. I got us into this mess, too.”

 

“I just want to go to sleep...just pass out until this is all over. If I'm asleep, I can't think. I can't be upset or angry, or do dumb shit. But I can't sleep, because my fucking back hurts, and I think I keep having those stupid Braxton-Hicks contractions because they keep waking me up.”

 

“Are you sure that's all they are...?”

 

“Yeah..I've been reading about it. They're not regular, they're all over the place. But they still hurt...” Peter took in a shakey breath, a sort of sob. “I'm so tired.”

 

“Come on,” Roman said, shifting so that he was half laying and pulled him lightly to do the same. “Lay down.”

 

He did, and Roman pulled him close once more. He let him cry against his chest for what was probably the thousandth time, doing all the could to try to calm him down. He laid awake until it seemed Peter finally fell asleep himself, or maybe he cried himself to sleep; Roman didn't know. He slept for the new few hours after that, waking up around 7 a.m to double-check the van. He looked around the outside, on the underside, etcetera, finding no bugs. The only thing that seemed slightly off to him was a tiny scratch next to the lock near the back door. It could've happened any number of ways, but it made Roman nervous. He pulled the back door a few times to make sure it wasn't unlocked, and it wasn't. He unlocked the back and surveyed the van; nothing amiss. As far as he could tell, it was exactly how he left it. He still felt a little off about this but he could find nothing wrong, and he didn't want to hang around looking and risk getting caught. He did do a quick check; looked under the mattress, under bags, under the seat briefly, but nothing.

 

 

He packed everything except a spare pair of clothes and a toothbrush while Peter slept. He wanted him to get as much sleep as possible. If he could manage to carry him out while he slept and not wake him up, he would. Roman wasn't sure he could carry his full weight at all by this point. He waited as long as he could, putting everything in the van,letting the front desk man know they'd be checking out, and finally returning to wake Peter.

 

“Hey,” he said, gently shaking his shoulder. He made an annoyed groaning noise and turned over to face him, squinting against the sun and letting out a low scoff.

 

“I know,” he replied. “We gotta go.”

 

“Yeah. Meet me in the car when you're done.”

 

Peter only mumbled something in his general direction before making his way to the bathroom with his clothes. Roman waited for him in the van for quite some time; nearly fifteen minutes. He was, for a moment, worried that something had happened. Just as he was about to get out and look the side door of the van swung open, and Peter tossed in last night's clothes and a bagged toothbrush nearby, easing himself onto the mattress.

 

“Wake me if anything happens,” he said, yanking the blanket over him and falling into a fairly quick slumber. Roman took off out of the parking lot and towards the hazy morning horizon. A particularly uninteresting start of the day; the same as it always had been.

 

Near noon Peter finally crawled up front to use the front seat as a better lumbar support, staring silently out the window and not really speaking to him. Roman respected this and left him to his space. The radio was on, droning on and filling their awkward silence. It spoke of a few more sightings of the Jormundpir nearby; or rather, they didn't give it a name but everyone knew by now what they meant. It seemed that the few there were mostly ignored humans and were going for larger game. Fatalities had not decreased completely, but they were far lesser. They'd mentioned a mutation of sorts; Roman wondered if they were white.

 

“I wonder if they're gonna try to screw you,” Peter mumbled.

 

“I hope not.”

 

“Me too. I mean you might never come back to me, not after you've had monster vag.”

 

Roman laughed, and he looked over to say something but was immediately interrupted by a hard thunk on the front of his van. He immediately stopped, but whatever he'd hit flew several feet in front of him in a crumpled heap on the thin roadway. As thin as this road was right here, and way the trees hugged them so tightly, he knew it wouldn't be easy to go around it. He spied dense white fur in the distance and sighed, thinking he'd hit a dog.

 

“Are you okay?” Roman asked, turning to Peter while he unbuckled his seat belt.

 

“I'm fine but that dog you just hit isn't.”

 

“Yeah..I know.”

 

“What are you going to do if it's still alive?”

 

“If it's just a scrape I'll let it go, but...” he reached over to grab the gun he kept in the glove box. “If not...” He left the rest up to obvious interpretation and hopped out. He could still see it moving slightly; chest rising and falling and covered in blood. Roman made a disappointed and saddened 'tsk' as he strode over to the poor thing. But it was not, in fact, a dog...It was one of those infected vargulves. He hadn't seen one in a while, he'd honestly thought maybe they died out. But here this thing was, rasping for breath on the ground. Its legs were broken and it was very nearly taken over on the underside by the tumorous parasite. Something seemed strange about its legs though, and he realized on the backside of it was some kind of crude torture device. A very thin board that was very nearly cracked beneath it's weight, all the way up its legs. He hadn't noticed at first; it sort of blended in with the blood and overtaking tumors. This thing had been...tortured, by a human. Had nails driven into its flesh to keep it's broken legs aloft and unbending. Though the bone still stuck through the skin it was still kept upright, yet completely immobile.

 

This meant that the vargulf could not have wandered into the road, it was deliberately placed here. Roman quickly drew the pistol, shooting it in the skull point-blank and ending it's suffering. It did not turn back, it was too far gone. Roman had seen Peter take the head off of one of these before, but he didn't have time. Something was very wrong on this road and he needed to get back to the van as quickly as possible. Just as he turned to head back he heard the sound of breaking branches and wind. Something crashed threw the trees and landed heavily just behind him. He whirled around to find himself face to face with a very unusual looking Jormundpir, and also nearly pissing his pants. It was...not white, but not black. A more mottled grey of sorts. Had it come from hearing the shot?

 

 

He tried to slowly back away, but it noticed him immediately. It went for his hand with its tail, growling and wrapping it around; squeezing until Roman was forced to drop the gun. They were evolving...This thing knew what a gun was, knew what it did. What it was not, however, was aggressive. It was merely disarming him with a snarling growl, saliva dripping from it's many teeth. When that was done, it released him. It circled him, but Roman noticed it was trying to get to the dead thing at his feet.

 

“You want this?” Roman said quietly. It growled at him, low and hissing almost in response. Did it know what he was saying? “I don't want it. Take it. Go,” he said. The thing hissed at him again, unhinged its jaws and bared it's teeth but Roman didn't back down. He had a feeling that if he showed weakness it would be on him in a minute. Though he swallowed heavily, and his legs felt like they would collapse beneath him. Had he had that gun, he would've dropped it by now with how much his hands were shaking.

 

He watched the things tail coil beside it, until it coiled beneath the torso of the battered and horrible creature in front of him. It wrapped around it so hard he heard it's bones crunch. It stared him down, though it had no eyes, and then spread its wings. It rushed towards him but Roman realized it was actually trying to go past him, and the thing knocked him to the ground on it's ascent into the sky before he could move. He wasn't hurt; shaken, but hurt. Oh, how he was shaken. Out of earshot he found it suddenly hard to breathe without screaming and they shook as he sat there. His heart was near pounding out of his chest and he was honestly surprised he hadn't pissed himself in fear.

 

He ran back to the van, shaking as he yanked the door open and tumbled inside. He needed a minute to catch his breath.

 

“Jesus Christ, are you okay? You scared the shit out of me.”

 

“I'm...I'm fine, I think. It didn't want me. Holy shit, I was so fucking scared.”

 

“I wanted to go out there but I saw what the last one did with me there...God. I'm sorry-,”

 

“No, it's okay. I would've wanted you to stay in here anyway.”

“What did it take?”

 

“A fucking vargulf...thing. We gotta get the fuck out of here. Thing had boards on its legs. Someone put it there.”

 

Though Roman thought they were out of danger, something suddenly stirred around them. A low hissing noise that filled the interior of the van. Roman had little time to react; he heard the noise, and then he was suddenly overwhelmed with dizziness. The world spun and blackened, and he called out to Peter in a weakened voice that sounded yards away and barely understandable. He knew he felt terror, worry and confusion and yet he could do nothing about it. It wasn't long before his consciousness was taken from him and his world consumed by utter blackness.

 

_**ART** _

 

Y'all really been askin', 'how big is Peter going to get' well now you have your answer with these pics

 

He aint' really gonna get any noticeably bigger than this and if he does it'll be very slight.

 

Sorry if there's any inconsistencies but that's life and me fucking up at it

 

Because some people stated earlier (even if I'm not sure if they're still reading) these, like the rest of the pics are in links sorry

 

_**[Pic 1](https://i.gyazo.com/8c9dac382dfdaf9603f636f73f1c13ce.png) ** _

 

_**[Pic 2](https://i.gyazo.com/923b25b7c76fc9c28a52582eba6d8049.png) ** _

 

[ _**Pic 3 (is kinda different so maybe we're just gonna say it's a little earlier and not me fucking up these were done months apart sorry)** _ ](https://i.gyazo.com/07b0bcc3616f5f21a17ac80071ca9fab.png)

 


	26. Show Me Your Teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: this chapter contains some pretty heavy gore and violence, also some vomiting 
> 
> please be aware
> 
> it's fucked up 
> 
> it's pretty fucked up 
> 
> im sorry

Five minutes the van had sat there unattended, filling with gas ever so slowly until the canister ran out. From the distance, Trinity knew she'd caught her prey once more. She'd been caught the first time; the bug, the stalking...They'd wizened to her game and started looking on the outside. But would they look on the inside? She'd nearly been caught when Peter ventured outside, and found it best to take off. She had a vehicle in waiting elsewhere anyway. A truck full of supplies. What she'd need to enact just one of many steps in her plan. She'd been following their trail closely and had tracked them down earlier in the day to the motel, where she acted quickly and _convinced_ a man to let her borrow his vehicle. Convinced was a relative term; it was more like threatened, but at least she promised to give it back. The guy seemed too afraid to call the cops; bless him.

 

 

She'd set to work getting materials; thank god for Lowe's. Trinity was what she liked to call an intelligent huntress. After learning their location she studied the make and model of their van. The blueprints, the interior; down to a T. If she was wrong and it had been modified it would cost her but she doubted it. Beneath the two front seats was, like most places, an average front seat. A large cavity of space. If one didn't know the interior well enough, they wouldn't know that there wasn't all that much support. Say...a wooden board. A wooden board that would hide her deadly secret. She'd paid them to cut her a couple of boards for her to the correct size, and then a few more just in case she messed up. Added to that some thinner ones in case she needed something to support it.

 

She left with these cut boards, a hammer, tape measurer, twine, zip-ties, a drill, a shit ton of nails, and one of those markers that was used to cover up scratch marks on wood. Then, she waited. She'd parked her truck in the parking lot far from their room and watched the window; waiting for the light to go off. It did almost as soon as she'd gotten there. Perfect, but not out of the woods yet... She waited another half hour before she got to work. With her bag of tricks, additionally now containing a metal, gas filled canister fitted with a tracking device she'd had in her bike storage and a set of lock picks, she set to work. She'd cursed herself for scratching the back lock but she eventually got in. So this is where these fuckers spent so much of their time. She'd made sure to take a quick picture of the interior with her phone before crawling inside. She secured the canister to the underside with the twine, as tightly as possible so it'd make no noise. Securing the boards was a far more arduous process. The drill was too loud, so she'd left it. She'd used it to drill holes in the boards prior so that the gas could escape. So slowly, bit by bit, she needed to nail through the outer side of the seat where there wasn't any metal. It was a very complicated process, and she was worried at first she had failed but when the marker was applied it wasn't nearly as noticeable. Just in case, she did the same to the second seat. Again, a long process.

 

 

She was out of there in about an hour, taking the remaining boards with her and fixing up the van to pristine condition; the way it had been, anyway. The thing wasn't exactly ...clean. As such was the way with guys, she supposed. Never really saw the big deal with them... And then, she waited. She left that night and took a quick nap in the front of the truck and followed at a close distance the next day. Kept track of their location on her GPS, noticed that they'd turned down a long road with no turns except for the one at the end. She had luckily been ahead of them at this point and stowed her truck in the woods. But how would she get them to stop? She thought of swerving in front of them, quickly flipping the switch and getting out of there, but her prayers were answered in a more...convenient fashion. There was nothing truly convenient about it.

 

 

Those hideous deformed wolves that Trinity had seen wandering around a few times. It was during the day, practically blind. It was nearly taken over by tumors, hobbling around and wheezing as thick mucous dripped from its eyes, nose, mouth and skin. It was sick; it was dying. It was a distraction. Even Trinity felt remorse for what she was about to do but she used the hope that if they hit this thing it would die. She captured it without issue, snapped its bones and used the spare wood to nail into its flesh. It felt none of it, it seemed. Just simply shook in her grasp and wheezed. It was so close to death and probably in so much pain this was nothing for it.

 

 

It did not die on impact, unfortunately, but it did die. She'd not expected the beast to show up as it did, and she had considered making a run for it if it attacked him because she was _not_ about to be next. But alas, he returned to his car, thankfully. She wanted them _both_. So she watched from the woods, and then pulled the small trigger button from her pocket. A tiny device with a little flip up plastic lid and a button inside. And then, she waited, and waited, and when no movement happened and she began to see tendrils of gas seeping from the cracks in the doors she knew she'd won. She headed back to the truck, which was a good few minutes walk, and retrieved her mask and the packet of zip-ties. When she was done there she abandoned it in the woods and made her trek back to the van, flipping on the mask and opening the back door, climbing in and dragging the two unconscious figures from their seats and securing their wrists with the zip ties. She found Peter far harder to move; the reason was obvious. There was a strange thrill in her; she was looking straight at the now peaceful forms of her prey. She'd caught them both again and she'd have her way. She had a plan. She'd let the Godfrey boy go, if he lived. Olivia had said _she_ couldn't kill him, but of course she couldn't account for unintended tragedies, now could she? With a smirk beneath her mask she started the van once more and drove. Now to find a suitable place to do her deed...

 

 

 

Waking up was hell. Like a bad hangover, sore and achy everywhere. Peter, for a five second period, wondered if he'd gotten drunk before remembering he was pregnant. Like that stopped him from smoking, though. His head was spinning and everything seemed off, and he tried to move from his arms but found them caught behind him. He finally lifted his head to see Roman in front of him, tied to a chair just like he was. Well, ziptied. A shitty little wooden chair but a chair nonetheless. But he was knocked out, slumped over chin to chest and immune to the rest of the world. Peter needed to figure out where they were, but he had a good idea who had them...

 

The scent of dirt and hay filled the air, and the ground below them was concrete but littered with remnants of the former two substrates. There were broken metal gates to his side, and Peter realized quickly they were in a barn. An abandoned one, it seemed, but a barn none-the-less. That oh-so familiar sense of dread was kicking in; they'd been caught, again. How would they get out of this one? He tugged at his bindings, finding them completely immovable. For a moment he even tried partial turning though he knew it wouldn't work, and it didn't.

 

“Roman,” he hissed, leaning forward slightly to try to get him to hear better. Roman stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before he raised his head. Squinting against the dull light filtering in through broken shingles, and the low light of a portable lantern hanging from a nail on the wall, he tried to survey his surroundings.

 

“What the fuck happened?” he groaned.

 

“I don't know...Last thing I remember we were talking on the road and we woke up here. Can you get out?”

 

Roman tried, it seemed. He struggled against his bindings but found them tight. So instead, he tried to tip himself backwards. The chair very nearly tipped before coming down into it's correct position with a loud clatter. Peter almost thought he heard the wood splinter. The noise drew attention, though. He heard boot heels on concrete and heard a familiar voice drift down the hall. A sort of echo held to it, almost more ominous.

 

“Good after _noon_ boys!” Trinity called, stepping into the broken remains of their stall. “I'm so glad you've joined the living, because I'll be sending you back to the dead and I want to see your faces.”

 

“Don't you have anything better to do than fuck with is, you sick cunt?” Peter snapped, roughly tugging at his binds again, making the chair clack against the floor in vain.

 

“Killing you's the only thing I have left...Un _fort-_ unately, I'm not supposed to kill your boy toy. Shame, isn't it?” Trinity said, rounding behind Roman and gripping his jaw from the back. She held his head up, and he glared at her with the intensity to quite possibly burn her soul away. Peter noticed she didn't look anywhere near his eyes, though. She knew what they could do. “Your mommy dearest keeps threatening to kill me if I kill you. Oh, but she didn't say anything about tragedy, did she?” she laughed, almost manic. “What would happen if something were to happen to you? Oh, I tried. I really did, Ms Godfrey,” she mocked the last part. “But that vicious little beast of a boyfriend...” she feigned sadness, closing her eyes and bringing her hand to her mouth and breathing deep. When she opened her eyes, and pulled down her hand she was smiling wickedly. “Shame to have to ruin that pretty face, though.”

 

“What do you want?” Peter asked. “Besides to be an inconvenience.”

 

“You're sure of yourself, aren't you? Poor thing, so desperate. You're tied to a chair, so is he. Where do you think you're going to go?” she laughed, but then crossed to the edge of the wall to where she was in the middle of them basically. “So, I'll make you a deal. You two really do seem like a cute couple...and I _guess_ I can appreciate that. So I'll let one of you go,” she said, pulling a flask from her pocket. Peter knew that flask, and he knew exactly what was in it. Swallowing, he was beginning to see what her plan was, given he was facing Roman. “Whichever one lives.”

 

“You _know_ he can't kill me.” Roman said, stammering slightly as he spoke.

 

“Oh, he can. If there's not enough of you left...I guess it's lights out for you. But you _do_ have an unfair advantage of being sort of immortal so I think I'll leave you tied up.”

 

“I can pay you,” Roman blurted out. “Whatever you want, I can give it to you. Just let us go.”

 

“I don't want your money. I just want one of you dead. I've never dealt with couples before, you know. Not together...and at first I thought, maybe I should reconsider this. I can see how in love the two of you are...But then I got to thinking, how fun would it be to use it to my advantage instead?”

 

Peter had tried not to be afraid, but at this point he truly did feel fear. Logically he could see a way out of this; the chairs seemed fragile, and Peter guessed they'd been here for some time and had begun to rot. Sure, he could throw himself to the ground but he'd hurt himself in the process and he'd never get past her. He could barely stand from the ground to begin with, not to mention what it could do to Nikki. Roman could do the same, but she'd be on him quickly as well. Theoretically they were both defenseless in this situation because there was no way they could get out of the zip-ties in their situation. Trinity had a knife, so that was a possibility but even between the two of them she was far more dexterous and would never allow it.

 

 

“I'll be nice, I'll give you a minute to say your goodbyes. I'm not that heartless,” she said, sauntering over to the edge of the stall and leaning against the rotting wood. “Go on.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Roman said, looking at him with an expression of utmost despair. “I should've checked the fucking van better.”

 

“We're gonna get out of this,” Peter said. Even with Trinity there, it would make no difference. He had to say it for himself; for Roman. He didn't know how but he needed to believe. He needed to be strong.

 

“Peter...listen,” Roman said, swallowing and looking away from him for a moment. “Finish the job, okay?”

 

“What?”

 

“If you attack me, make it count. If only one of us walks out of this it has to be you.”

 

“Roman...no,” Peter said, such shock and sadness carried in his nearly whispered tone. How could Roman just sit there and ask him to kill him? He wouldn't. He couldn't live with himself if he did. He knew he wasn't going to get out of this anyway if something didn't change. He was very quickly giving into despair, though. He had a feeling that none of them were going to walk out of this situation alive. They had come so far, and to be stricken down like this...God, how had they not been more careful?

 

“If I don't die, you will, and I don't want to go back to living a life without you in it. “

 

“She's going to fucking kill both of us anyway,” Peter was ashamed to say as tough as he tried to be in this situation that he did cry. He was both angry and terrified but there was no denying the sadness he felt. He hadn't wanted to give Trinity the satisfaction. “Please don't do this to me...Don't make me choose between you and me. You know I don't know what I'm doing, anyway.”

 

“If there's any shred of you in there-,”

 

“No!” Peter shouted, stopping him from going any further. He didn't want to hear it. “If this is the last time I get to talk to you, I don't want it to be this, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Roman nearly whispered. Peter watched him swallow, and the first appearance of tears start to spill down his cheeks. “Okay. You do what you have to do.”

 

“I won't,” Peter said, voice broken, ragged and overflowing to the brim with sadness. “I won't do it. If I can, I won't attack you.”

 

“It's okay,” Roman assured. He laughed then; a sudden and quiet exhale. It wasn't of amusement, but sadness. It was always so strange somehow that people could laugh when they cried. Peter didn't have the time to think of that now, though. Instead he watched him closely. He hated that he was crying, but he knew he couldn't help it. But Peter also knew that this might be the last time he'd see him. If he lived through this somehow, without Roman, despite the fact that he couldn't imagine it, he wanted to map everything into his memory. It was just a shame that their last memory would be this. That Roman's memory would be forever marred by watching him cry in front of him, begging him to kill him. “I love you,” Roman finally said to him. Peter didn't know why, but this made him cry harder. An audible sob followed by a ragged and deep inhale.

 

“Fuck,” he cursed, drawn out and angry. “I love you too...and I'm sorry if I hurt you. And I'm sorry I've been such a fucking asshole. You don't deserve that shit. I should've been better to you.”

 

“Don't worry about that now. It's in the past, forget it.” Roman said, breathing out a ragged and shaking breath as he swallowed once more.

 

 

Peter heard Trinity groan from behind them as she strode over to them once more, flask in hand.

 

“What a touching story, time's up though,” she said. She grabbed Peter by the jaw, forced his head back and pushed the flask to his mouth. He fought her at first. He fought her as hard as he could. At one point he attempted to bite her hand but she used this to yank his jaw open and pour the liquid into his mouth. He fought his too. He kept it there, letting it drool out around him but it just kept coming and he was finally forced to swallow. Once it started going down, he couldn't stop. He wasn't gone yet but he knew he would be soon and his body was already taking over for him. He drank it down desperately while the world started to pulse around him. Pulse and blacken, until he was gone once more into a primal state of being. What happened next, Peter couldn't say.

 

 

 

Roman had waited, knowing his fate. He knew it upset Peter but the truth was he'd rather choose Peter's life over his own. Roman had a lot of problems hiding under the surface that Peter didn't know about. It's not like he could tell him, now. It's not like he ever could. Roman accepted his fate because he wasn't sure how he could get out of this. He watched as Peter lost himself to his animal self and the look he gave him was terrifying, but Roman didn't look away. He didn't close his eyes. Even if Peter was going to tear him apart, he didn't want to miss his last moments seeing him. So he watched even as Trinity moved behind Peter to cut the bindings on his wrists. He waited for him to come for him and he prayed that Peter had the sense to go for his heart if he had to. But this is not what he did, and what he _did_ do left Roman in such a state of shock for a moment he didn't know how to react.

 

 

Bracing for impact, he watched as Peter managed to lunge from the chair, towards Roman, but only used him to brace himself so that he could turn around and immediately go for Trinity. It happened so fast that Trinity had no time to react, and in seconds he had her pinned to the wall. Roman truly was uncertain how he was able to move that fast. She'd dropped her knife in the scuffle, and before she had time to try to fight him off, Peter bit her. He went straight for her neck. Roman heard the sickening pop of her jugular being severed and the gush of blood that followed, hitting the floor in wet splashes. He heard her gasping, choking on her own blood in grotesque gurgling noises. Roman watched as he pulled away from her neck, pulling stringy chunks of sinew and flesh with him and then immediately going for her face.

 

 

It was a kind of brutality from him that Roman had never been on the outside looking in, and it was both terrifying and intriguing. But Roman couldn't think of that now, and as soon as he realized that the both of them were technically safe, he wouldn't be for long. He didn't know how long he had before Peter turned on him. Now, he wanted to live. He didn't want to die at his hands knowing he was going to survive and Trinity couldn't harm them any longer. He eyed the gun warily on her side by she was seizing now and Peter had thrown her to the ground and knelt before her to bite pieces from her body. She wasn't going anywhere.

 

 

Roman took in a deep breath and flung himself back onto the floor. The wood splintered and cracked beneath him but not enough to actually break the chair. He had to awkwardly turn on his side and pull his legs up, to push against the bottom of the chair with his feet and pull forward with his torso. The back snapped finally and left him with half the chair still attached to him but it still allowed him to stand up. It was awkward, having no arms; he had to push himself against the wall and shimmy up it before sprinting from the stall. He hated to leave Peter there but he seemed, at the moment, to not notice him leaving. He just had to keep telling himself that Trinity was done for; at this point, she couldn't find back. There was too much adrenaline pumping through him at the moment for Roman to understand the implications of this; he just needed to get free somehow. He would have tried to grab the knife if possible had his arms not been behind his back and the knife way too close to Peter's teeth.

 

 

He noticed a door at the end of the barn and immediately made his way towards it, shoving it open with his shoulder and finding himself in what would have once been a tackle room. To his surprise there were a few rusted tools left behind, including a saw. Not sure what a saw was doing in the tackle room, but it was useful. He managed to shut the door behind him by backing into it and then moving to the wall, to slam his back against it enough times that the back of the chair broke into pieces. He slipped free from the one remaining rung and then had the task of getting his arms in front of him. This would be a task, due to how long his legs were, but luckily his arms were proportionately as long. He lowered himself into a crouching position and worked diligently to slip his legs through. It was a pain on his shoulders, and he would have fallen over many times had he not chosen to sit next to the wall.

 

When he was free he sat there and listened carefully, hoping he heard no signs of distress. He didn't hear much of anything, but he supposed it was because Peter was still content. He knew when he came out of this stupor he wasn't going to be happy. He stood from the floor as awkwardly as he had the first time, using the wall as support to slide up. He took the saw in his hands, looking it over, hoping that the rust didn't snap away the metal like toothpicks and instead held, just long enough to get himself free. He could wait, he supposed, until Peter came to but he didn't like being helpless for that long, as he had no idea when Peter would come back. He seated himself against the wall once more, pressed his legs together and put the saw between his ankles.

 

It didn't work well, at first. He swung his arms forward, in front of the saw and used them to try to cut the plastic. It was slow going; the saw slipped several times, falling back against his legs and making him start the process over again. Getting it in the same spot was hard, too. The only reason he persisted so much was that he could feel it beginning to loosen. Once the plastic was frayed enough he was able to pull his wrists apart and snap the band in two. He observed that the skin on his wrists and the back of his palms were scratched and bloody, fragments of rust in the small wounds.

 

Roman was glad he couldn't get tetanus, or at least he hoped he couldn't. He wiped away the dust with his opposite hands and carefully made his way from the room. It was still silent until he reached closer to where Peter actually was. He settled on the floor in the next stall over, waiting and listening. It was a nauseating sound, even to Roman, because he wasn't the one doing it. The popping and snapping of tendons and flesh, ripping ,tearing noises. The wet squelch of blood exiting the tissue. Roman was unnerved, to say the least. He ate people all the time but Peter didn't. Peter drank blood and went crazy, but Roman had never let him get to a person like this. The knowledge that even though he didn't see it, Peter was devouring a once living woman without his knowledge. He knew this would be hard on him; he knew Peter had killed, but never eaten. He wasn't supposed to. He knew he'd have to find a place to stay immediately because he knew how sick this was going to end up making them. He had to imagine the kind of looks he'd get wandering in, dirty, scratched and with blood stains on his clothes to rent a room. Roman would make sure to change his shirt first.

 

Roman was also both elated and intrigued by what had happened here, now that he sat here and could think of this. Trinity was gone; for good, this time. Trinity had been one of their most frightening enemies and Peter had taken her out, used her own tricks against her. Roman was honestly amazed he had enough thinking capacity to go for Trinity instead. He must have really fought hard to retain that one memory; that one promise that he wouldn't attack him.

They were...semi-free. He knew this wasn't the end. His mother was out there still, she'd learn of this. They couldn't just drop their guard because for all he knew, Olivia could have someone waiting in the wind, to report Trinity's failure. To take up the gauntlet and kill Peter instead.

 

 

Would they be smarter than her, faster and deadlier than her? It's not like Trinity was stupid. She was smart, she'd tracked them down three times, but she was vengeful and vicious. Her cruelty had gotten the best of her and she chose to toy with them rather than continue on with her mission. Perhaps her ego was too large; the thought of failure never crossing her mind. But would someone not so steeped in cruelty and malice fare better than she had in their demise? He was interrupted in his thoughts when Peter finally called for him, and he stood to venture into the adjacent stall, to survey the scene of carnage that Peter had left for him.

 

 

Unlike Roman, Peter was quite unaware of the scene he'd come back to. His last memory was desperately fighting Trinity's hold on him, trying hard not to ingest any of the blood but failing. He knew this, because he found himself now in a much different situation. The coppery tang of blood was heavy in his mouth and he could feel bits of flesh stuck in his teeth. At the moment he was looking down; not quite at the scene in front of him but at the floor. Evidently having backed up somewhat. His hands, his clothes, the floor; covered in blood. But Peter knew in the back of his mind this wasn't Roman's. Roman's tasted bitter and rotted, this just tasted human. Peter was almost afraid of what that meant; he knew what it meant, but the thought made a pit of despair form in his stomach.

 

He finally let his eyes drift forward to find the mutilated corpse before him. Faceless, torn to pieces with her clothes ripped away in parts. Her chest had been torn open, ribs exposed and broken. Flayed out and gutted like a fish, her organs had been removed rather violently. The cavity was nearly empty except for the rope of intestines that had been dragged from her abdomen and half devoured before being left mangled and draped grotesquely over the now exposed bone of her pelvis. He felt sick with the notion of what he'd done, but couldn't even bring himself to vomit. He could hear a buzzing ring in his ears as his brain tried to process everything that was happening, and he vaguely thought he called out to Roman. He must have, considering he came to him. He was relieved to see him still walking around, but not quite at the cost of having _eaten_ someone despite the fact that he knew he'd gotten rid of one of their biggest hurdles.

 

“How could I do this...?” he asked, barely a whisper. “I...I'm a fucking cannibal. She was alive, I ate her _alive_ ,”

 

“I know,” Roman said, kneeling down beside him. “Come on, it's okay. It's a good thing.”

 

“It's not!” Peter said, finally finding his voice. “Roman, I fucking ate someone. What kind of monster...” he stalled, then realized what he was saying. “Sorry.” Roman didn't respond at first, and it seemed as though he wasn't quite sure how to approach the situation. He finally did reply but it wasn't completely related to what had happened.

 

“We have to go,” he said. “Like, as fast as possible.”

 

“Okay,” Peter said, stammering and attempting to stand though he knew he couldn't. Roman helped to pull him up, pressed against him and getting blood all over his clothes. Peter felt shaken, like his legs were jello. Roman noticed this and made sure to keep a tight grip on him. He helped him to the van and into the front seat, at Peter's own request. He did not want to lay down like this, covered in blood with his stomach already protesting with nausea. He had eaten far too much. The fullness he felt was very nearly painful. He thought that perhaps the only reason he was brought out of his stupor as because his stomach truly could not take in any more.

 

Roman looked around for a moment after helping him into the van, walking a good distance away and then returning to him to speak. He told him he'd return and Peter watched as he headed back into the barn. He merely leaned against the window for a moment, in a stupor. An attempt to forget the previous few moments, only broken when he saw Roman carry her body from the barn. What was left of it, anyway. Most of her upper half was gone. She was barely held together by spine and sparse remaining muscle, dangling loosely in his grasp. Like she might snap in half at any second. Peter turned away then cried, seeing it now again with his own eyes. The things he'd done to her...He'd hated her, it was true. How he'd wished for her death for so long and yet...not like this. Not with her flesh and organs in his stomach. He felt like a monster; an animal. Was he any better? He wouldn't have cared if he'd just shot her dead. Maybe a little; he'd killed before but he mourned them somewhat in his own way.

 

Roman returned minutes later, wet with blood and other fluids he didn't care to identify. The both of them were a mess, covered in dirt, hay and viscera. It was almost so telling of what their life had become. It was so far from normal at this point that Peter scarcely believed it ever would be again. To his surprise, Roman didn't get in the drivers side door but opened his side.

 

“You did a good thing, Peter,” he said, hugging him somewhat awkwardly. “I know what it feels like, though. I didn't like it either.”

 

“You're _supposed_ to, though. I don't know how I can ever be okay with this.”

 

“But look she's...she's gone. She'll never bother us again, and you did that for us, okay? You made our lives so much easier.”

 

“I'd have rather shot her than this I...I don't feel like I did a good thing at all.” He exhaled, shaking with the hint of disgust and nausea traveling with his breath. “I really don't feel good...”

 

“Okay,” Roman said softly. Roman knew him, by this point. He knew the signs of when he would be sick. And he was, violently. Roman stood by him and held his hair back with one hand, ran along his back with the other. The presence of it made him realize he was sweating rather badly. It hurt horribly once again. It didn't help that his stomach ached, felt full to the brim and stretched as far as it could go with the added pressure of his womb pressing everything else against it. The pressure abated only some as he spilled its contents, of which were so bloody and filled with tissue had he not known what he'd eaten he'd have thought something was seriously wrong.

 

When his stomach had stopped contracting he groaned; very nearly screamed in annoyance to clear the fluid trapped in his throat and sinuses. He let out a final cough or two and settled against his seat.

 

“That really fucking hurts,” he mumbled, letting his hand settle over his stomach.

 

“Did you get enough out?”

 

“No...and I'm not going to sit here and try. Can we just go? I don't feel like shitting my guts out in the van again.”

 

Roman merely nodded, shutting the door and heading to the back of the van. He watched from the rear view mirror as he stripped down to everything but his boxers and dug through the bag to find something else. Limber as hell, still thin and able to maneuver around like it was nothing. That bitch. A passing thought, he was incredibly glad Roman was alive. He needed to have a talk with him, later. Peter was still incredibly upset but at the moment he was honestly too exhausted to cry anymore. He was overcome with so many horrible emotions it rendered him numb. It was only a passing thing, he was sure. This would come back with a vengeance later.

 

 

Dressed now in something that was not covered in blood, Roman crawled into the front seat and headed off. It was silent, after that. The silent knowledge that passed between them that Peter had committed a terrible murder, and Roman was an accomplice to that. They pulled into a motel soon after and Roman made sure there was no blood present on his person, ordered a room, and then ushered Peter in quickly before anyone could catch sight of him.

 

“We're going to have to get rid of this,” Roman said as they entered, gesturing towards his clothes.

 

“I know. I have more. I need to take a shower...” He left him then and headed off to the bathroom. He peeled off his clothes, which stuck to him from blood, sweat and dirt. To see them there on the floor, it was so much more apparent how much blood there was. He could feel it on his skin, drying and becoming tight and sticky. He hated it. He climbed into the shower as quickly as he could and felt sickened as he watched how much blood came off of him. Almost hypnotic, the pinkish red swirl running down the drain.

 

 

He was suddenly incredibly nauseated; he knew he was going to be sick again, but didn't think he'd make it out in time. He attempted at first, clasped his hand over his mouth and turned but instead found himself retching harder than he had expected. He felt a slickness in his hand and something gelatinous and solid. He pulled it shaking from his face, afraid to investigate, and saw that what he was looking at was staring back at him. There was a very damaged eyeball in his hand. He dropped it suddenly and it was sucked down the drain, but he no longer cared about trying to leave the shower and splattered the bottom of the bath with blood. He covered his mouth once he had finished, shaking and trying not to devolve into a panic attack as the bottom of the bath now looked like a murder scene.

 

 

He barely was able to finish, feeling so sick with disgust and the general nausea that came with ingesting blood that he could barely focus. But he managed, scarcely, and dressed only to spend the next fifteen minutes languishing in the bathroom as his body rebelled. He slumped from the bathroom later feeling drained and horrible.

 

“Are you feeling better?” Roman asked.

“No...” Peter said, crawling onto the bed and collapsing onto his side. Though he felt weak he was still strong enough to pull Roman down to him, though their position on the bed was less than ideal. Peter was more or less lying sideways, across the bed instead of correctly. He exhaled audibly and buried his face in Roman's chest, wrapping his arm beneath Roman's to clutch at his back.

 

“I can't stop seeing it...” he mumbled into his chest. An overwhelming sadness overcoming him, but too much to even cry. “What I did. What I _saw_ , and I...” he stalled and then let the sentence hang there. “I hate myself.”

 

“God, I'm so sorry...” Roman said. He ran his hand through Peter's hair, tangling in the wet locks and pulling once more. “I wish I could've taken this back. Like I hadn't been so stupid, I knew something was off but I couldn't find anything. I should've looked better...Even if our lives can be so much easier now...”

 

“At what cost, though?” Peter asked, pulling away to look up at him incredulously. “There's a dead body out there now with my DNA on it. And that shit you pulled...How could you ask me to kill you?”

 

Roman let out a sort of sigh, muffled behind his closed lips and through his nose. He knew Roman didn't want to answer him, but he would.

 

“My life before you was...it was lonely, and it was empty. I was alive and I was living but I was just going through the motions. No, it's not like I wanted to die or something, but going back to what I had after this? I can't...I couldn't live, knowing you would die. I'd never forgive myself.”

 

“You have a daughter, Roman...You'd just leave her?”

 

“I don't think Nadia would realize I was gone. She might've even been better off without me. Without her monster of a father probably fucking shit up for her every few years. I think you could've been better to her than I could alone.”

 

“You're really selfish, you know that?” Peter asked. He felt angry and betrayed. “To think I'd want to live without you. To think I'd ever forgive _myself_ for killing you.”

 

“I wasn't thinking of that. I felt like I had a split second decision to make. I chose you.”

 

“Don't do it again. Don't ever make me choose like that.”

 

“I won't,” Roman said, letting his hand drift from his hair to stroke his cheek slightly.

 

“Promise me,” Peter demanded.

 

“I promise.”

 

“I know you can be a convincing liar, sometimes.” Peter said, tilting his head against his hand. “You think you're good at it but I've seen you do it, to other people. But I trust you. Don't make me regret it.”

 

The day passed, not at all uneventful. Peter was horribly ill for half the night but recovered sometime the next day. And so that day, too, passed. Several did, getting further and further from that horrible day. About two weeks, eventually. Two weeks and Peter never truly did recover all the way. Roman would awake next to him some nights from Peter having horrible nightmares about the ordeal. He developed a brief aversion to meat, but Roman kept on his case to eat it because he knew the baby probably needed protein. Physically he had seemed okay, for a while. But Roman was beginning to notice something off about him in the past few days.

 

 

Peter seemed to be getting sick, and Roman truly hoped it wasn't due to what had happened. He got sick a lot more, seemed incredibly tired, and complained of persistent back pain. The latter was probably due to just having a lot of weight on his front, as his back always seemed to hurt anyway. But one day, it seemed worse. Driving headlong into a mild rainstorm he watched from his peripheral vision, his pale and uncomfortable form sitting atop and wrapped in a blanket. A very specifically placed blanket. He'd also become annoyed and very particular at the way things were placed. Roman had no idea what that was about. He'd asked, but Peter told him to fuck off.

 

“I think we're running out of time,” he mumbled, leaning his head against the window and speaking in his general direction.

 

“What?”

 

“You still haven't found a house. We don't have much time. I'm already eight and some months.”

 

“What makes you think of this?”

 

“I'm nervous. Aren't you?”

 

“Yeah...Look, I'm looking, alright? The one I really wanted to get into is...giving me trouble. Nothing else looks as safe. I know we don't have to deal with Trinity anymore, but Olivia...”

 

“You're just cutting it really close.”

“I know. If I still can't find a good place by the time you're full-term I'll find the closest place I can. I'll buy a shack if I have to.”

 

“Shame, I wanted to give birth in a mansion. Surrounded by servants. Don't you think I deserve that?” Peter asked, sarcastically of course. “Get me one of those acoustic rooms and play whale noises or some shit.”

 

“I thought you said you wanted to give birth in a mansion, not in the ocean.”

 

“Whale noises are calming, I think. I don't know,” he sighed.

 

“Do you want me to stop somewhere? You look horrible.”

 

“Thanks,” Peter muttered, wincing and stretching his back. He let out a huff and then settled once more. “Yeah. I feel like shit. I'm sick of being stuck in here...”

 

 

 

Roman quickly located a motel and found his way there. He was still wary of Peter, watching him still. Still pale, half asleep and half awake it seemed like. He seemed incredibly groggy. It was already getting late so it wasn't too much of a stretch that he'd be looking for a motel but he had honestly considered the side of the road this time around as the motels were a bit far away. He arrived there after dark, checked in just as he had hundreds of times before, and made himself at home in the room.

 

 

Peter settled into bed not soon after, not quite to sleep but to lay there. Aggressively trying to adjust the blankets to his liking, only made worse by the fact that he kept getting up to use the bathroom. Roman's last memory for that early evening was laying in bed with him, clasping his hand and watching. Watching the hitch in his breathing and the audible exhale every so often, which signaled to Roman he was in some kind of distress or discomfort but he didn't push the issue. Even after Peter fell asleep, Roman still couldn't for the longest time. He simply had a worry that something odd was going on.

 

But for Peter, sleep seemed fitful. He woke often; the pain in his back and stomach kept him awake. The minute he'd gotten to the hotel, his stomach began protesting so badly it was as though he'd taken blood. As such he was dealing with intestinal cramps, but after some time he was finally able to ease himself into a sleep that, though it was a good few hours, was not at all restful. He saw flashes of brief dreams in the state between asleep and awake that meant nothing to him. The only true dream he had, the solving of its mystery eluded him for quite some time. He recalled the vision of sitting up against the headboard, bare legs spread and knees drawn up, looking downward. He was alone and in the dark as though the bed around him was all that there was. No other space but the one upon which he sat. There was so much blood soaking the sheets and suddenly he felt a strong pressure. He bore down once, and witnessed a slimy, squirming mass emerge from between his legs. A blood filled sac writhing with serpents. They burst free, splattering blood along his thighs and slithering away into the darkness. However, the feeling continued. He kept going, birthing more and more serpents who left him the moment they were born. So eager to enter the world, to be free.

 

 

Peter awoke from this dream as though it had been a nightmare. He was drenched in sweat, panting and woozy. The world seemed to be spinning and he was having a very difficult time feeling grounded. Despite this, as he awoke more, he noticed something very unfortunate. There as a distinct sticky feeling between his legs and along his thighs, and he felt disgusted with himself. It hadn't been the first time he'd had to sneak out of bed because he'd had some horrible pregnancy related accident in his sleep. This seemed no different. He put the thought of shame from his mind and hauled himself out of bed with great difficulty. He headed to the bathroom with the determination and intent to clean himself up as quickly as possible. It was slow going, unfortunately. Groggy as he was he shuffled to the bathroom and turned the light on, shutting the door behind him.

 

 

It took him a moment to adjust and he leaned against the sink, squinting against the light for a moment until he felt comfortable enough to move. The grogginess was weighing incredibly heavy on him at the moment. Once he had adjusted enough, he just happened to look down to survey the damage. It was hard for Peter to see anything given the fact that his stomach was in the way. He was able to at least see some of his lower thigh. What he found was not what he expected, though. An almost pinkish orange smear down the inside of his thigh. He realized, soon after, that it looked a lot like blood. As horrible and disgusting as it would be if this was _not_ actually blood, he still felt compelled to reach between his legs to check. On the outside, at least. It felt incredibly damp, disgusting feeling. Upon pulling his hand back up he found it shimmering red, stained on his fingertips and on his palm.

 

That buzz came back again; that panicy feeling, and the dizziness that accompanied it. He braced himself with his still blooded hand against the sink, holding onto it to try to ground himself. He told himself in his head maybe this wasn't bad. Women sometimes bled during pregnancy, maybe that was just what he was doing. He was eight months, he had felt her move earlier that day. He knew she was still alive and yet...this bleeding worried him. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his lower abdomen as he looked at the blood now starting to stain the sink. A pain, one that seemed to encompass his entire abdomen. He thought, at first, it was just somehow from looking at the blood. Something that triggered him to cramp up. He thought this, or he prayed this, until the pain ramped up. To the point where he felt like if he moved it might make it worse. He waited, waited for it to stop. Like any other pain that he'd had there before. Like the hundreds of Braxton-Hicks contractions he'd had in the past. He just had to wait, he was fine. He was totally fine. But it did not stop, and it got to the point where he let out a muffled whimper and gripped the sink hard enough to make his knuckles go white.

 

Amidst this pain, he felt something more. It felt like something deep within him had burst; an unpleasant popping sensation that only added to how uncomfortable this felt. He suddenly began to feel incredibly warm. Like a sudden rushing warmth. A very damp, warm sensation. He felt fluid run down his legs and heard it hit the floor beneath him various dripping noises. He vaguely registered making some kind of pained and startled noise in the back of his throat, as he stepped back far enough while the pain began to abate to examine himself. To watch as thin rivulets of pink and pale-clear fluid ran down his legs to join a tiny, growing puddle on the floor. He very nearly felt as though he was about to collapse and had to hold onto the sink even tighter.

 

 

Among so many thoughts he could have at the moment, the first thought he had was the word 'shit', followed by every single other expression and curse that could mean remotely the same thing.

 


	27. I'm Not Okay (Trust Me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 46 pages long, I'm so sorry
> 
> it's long  
> it's bloody  
> it's graphic  
> it's as painful as i could make it  
> it's probably inaccurate though i swear i did a fair amount of research but i did take artistic liberties from what i found

The next few moments had been Peter trying to recover from shock, then trying not to panic. He leaned over against the sink and really tried to focus on breathing. He was afraid that if he didn't he might have some kind of a panic attack. There was no denying that he was scared. He didn't know where they were, he knew he was early, they didn't have the house, and he wasn't at all ready for this. Still, he had to pull himself together. He needed to go in the other room, wake Roman up, get a hold of Destiny, and get their ass back to her place. God, he didn't' want to go there. He wanted to do this _anywhere_ but the one place he knew Olivia could so easily get her claws in him, but he had no choice. He straightened up, still white-knuckle gripping the sides of the sink and trembling. His breath shook as it emerged, audibly and panicked.

 

 

He looked up at the mirror for a moment to try to intimidate himself into becoming brave. He caught sight of his terrified visage, then closed his eyes, swallowed and let out a slow exhale. He opened his eyes once more and forced himself to stare his own reflection in the face with a look of determination. It was almost a glare, and he told himself as he did this to go. A mantra in his mind telling him to stop standing there and move because he couldn't waste time. Not now. He turned from the sink and made his way towards the bedroom. Every step felt like a mile. Every shift made him realize, with his legs slightly closer together, that he was still actively leaking amniotic fluid. It was not so much a gush as one usually saw in films; dramatic and a herald to the immediate impending birth. No, it had been at first in the way that it was sudden but it had slowed down quite a bit. He had to imagine as the fluid dropped that so too did Nikki, thus slowing the flow. Peter also didn't feel like he was _too_ close to actually giving birth. He didn't feel that sense of urgency and that last contraction he had wasn't too awful. More of a nuisance, than anything.

 

Sometimes it seemed like Roman could sleep through anything. He slept so soundly Peter envied him. He knew after tonight, give or take, none of them would sleep quite as soundly for quite some time. He stepped over by the bed and noted briefly what a mess he was making of the carpet. He had already made a mess. Blood on the bed sheets and the sink, fluid on the bathroom floor, drops on the carpet. He would be leaving this motel far stranger than he had coming in. He leaned over some, meaning to shake him but the weight of his middle ended up making him just brace himself off Roman's shoulder.

 

“Roman...” he said, quietly at first. His voice shook somewhat as he spoke. Roman did not wake. He knew he was usually tired from all the driving, sometimes it was hard to wake him. So instead he took a different approach.

 

“Roman!” he shouted; it came out in an angry hiss. Roman awoke suddenly, rolling over to face him and from the darkness he seemed somewhat confused.

 

“Yeah?” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face.

 

“We have to go, like...five minutes ago. We have to go home.” Peter said frantically.

 

“What? Why?” he asked, sitting up.

 

Peter felt stupid as hell, but telling Roman the reason almost embarrassed him. It also scared him. Saying it made it so much more real, not like it wasn't already real. Truthfully, why was it embarrassing? This was a serious issue. Serious as the still leaking blood tinged fluid dripping out of his crotch and down his legs like he was very slowly pissing himself from the wrong place. Maybe that's why it seemed embarrassing. As such, Peter let out a sigh, and a low and brief hum of embarrassment and despair.

 

“My water broke...or, is, it still is,” he stammered. “I don't know how much time we have.”

 

Roman let out a discontented sigh and Peter watched as he flopped back for a moment. He was offended at first, even though he thought it had something to do with how tired he was. But it seemed to hit him after the fact. Like he'd fallen asleep for point two seconds and shot back up in alarm.

“Did you actually tell me your water broke or did I just dream that?”

 

“Yes!” Peter shouted, exasperated.

 

“Shit,” Roman said, suddenly leaping from the bed. “Fuck, okay...” he cursed to himself, and then turned on the light near the bed. He took one look at the state he was in and nervously ran his had through his hair, looking mildly terrified. “Why are you standing? Shouldn't you be...fuck, laying down or something?” he said, making his way to the bag in the corner of the room to find some pants.

 

“My legs still work,” Peter replied, but he did not want to keep standing up. He did eventually sit, feeling disgusted at the moment. It felt cold, slimy and sticky now as he sat down. He noted that it didn't all feel like just liquid. “Can you get me ...” he stalled, he wasn't even sure how to phrase what he needed. What he needed was so simple and yet he was having a hard time elaborating on what he needed. “I can't wear this,” he finally decided on.

 

“Yeah,” Roman replied, letting out a nervous sigh, “Yeah, I'll get you something.”

 

Roman pulled on a pair of pants and pulled out a pair of boxer-briefs and pants for Peter. He scooted to the edge of the bed and pushed his boxers down, noting a very gross looking, jelly-like slime half in his underwear and half slicked down his legs. There was apparently a lot more blood than he had thought. He could tell just by sitting here he was still leaking blood and fluid onto the blanket. For a moment he was overwhelmed, just staring and taking in shaky breaths at all the blood and mucous all over his thighs. He was grateful for Roman snapping him out of his stupor by bringing him a towel. He took it from him without actively looking at him and shoved it between his legs, cleaning up the best he could before he dressed.

 

“We've got uh, two...two hours,” Roman said, clearly frazzled, putting his phone in his pocket. “Do you think we've got two hours?”

 

“I don't know,” he responded. He felt like he definitely had two hours though, at least. “Probably. But we can't sit here and wait to find out,” as he said this he hauled himself off the bed again, realizing he'd gotten some blood on the back of his pants from not bothering to really stand when he dressed.

 

Peter pulled out his phone and gave glance at the clock on the bedside table. It was one of those digital, light-up clocks, and he tried to remember what time it was when he'd gotten up. It was one a.m now on the nose, and Peter tried desperately to remember what it said before. He remembered seeing a five; it seemed like it had only really been five minutes. How was that possible? Everything had seemed so much slower to him. By this point he was heading out to the car with Roman, almost in a daze, not really remembering quite why he had his phone in his hand in the first place until he remembered he was supposed to be calling Destiny. Roman must have noticed this behavior, and twitchy as he was when he pulled out, he still turned to Peter with concern.

 

“Are you doing okay?” he asked.

 

“I...No,” Peter responded. “I'm actually really fucking scared...”

 

“Me too,” Roman admitted quietly. Peter would have said more on this but turned his attention back to the phone. He had to will his hands to stop shaking while he auto-dialed her number. It rang, and it rang again, until it went to voicemail. Peter cursed and hung up; this was a delicate situation and he needed her to answer. It was so late that he _knew_ she was asleep and probably didn't want to deal with her phone but he couldn't just wait for her to check her messages. Peter knew this probably took some preparation, and he needed her to do that before he got there lest it turn into a much more dire situation. He called her a second time, then a third, and on the fourth after a few minutes she finally answered.

 

“Peter, it's like... one in the morning, this better be important.” she mumbled.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said, trying not to sound frantic. “There's been a change of plans. We're two hours away. You need to deliver this baby tonight...tonight adjacent, sometime fucking soon.”

 

“Um, okay...” she said, and he heard a shuffling noise in the background. “You're a little early...Are you sure?”

 

“I know I'm early, but I don't think she gives a shit. I'm sure.” As he spoke he could feel an ache starting to spread out from his lower back; slow and creeping up over his pelvis.

 

“Are you having contractions?” she asked. He gave a low mumbled 'Yes' as a reply. The pain was distracting, even though it wasn't horrible. It had rounded his front now and he felt the pull and clench of his muscles that only seemed to escalate.

 

“When was the last one?” she asked, though it seemed distant. He neglected to answer her immediately due to the distraction of pain. He felt, instinctually, like speaking might make it worse.

 

“Peter?” she asked once more. Her voice was gentle but concerned.

 

“Now!” he replied, louder than he wanted to. It made Roman jump slightly, then look at him in concern. He did the best to ignore him.

 

“Okay, just try to breathe through it. Can you do that?” Peter made a low humming noise in response, though it didn't answer much.

 

“Deep breath, then slow exhale. Just focus on breathing.”

 

Peter did as she asked, or at least he tried. He ended up lowering one hand to his lower abdomen in an attempt to soothe himself. He ran his hand along it, hoping it would help. He noted how tight it felt, and how much tighter it got. At the peak he emitted a small strangled noise of pain and arched his back slightly in a desperate attempt to ease some of the pain. It did very little to help.

 

“You're doing good,” Destiny said encouragingly. “Just keep breathing.”

 

“How the fuck do you know, you're not in the car with me.” he said finally, sounding tired and winded as he spoke.

 

“Hey, don't give me that shit, Peter. I can hear you. Are you still contracting?”

 

“Barely,” it was true, he wasn't. He still felt the little tendrils of pain prickling along his muscles but they were fast disappearing.

 

“Okay. Forty-five seconds.”

 

“What?”

 

“It lasted forty-five seconds. Now I need you to try to tell me the last time you had one.” He could hear more shuffling in the background and Peter had to imagine she was up walking around the house.

 

“I don't know...ten..ten minutes ago, maybe?”

 

“How much stronger have they gotten?”

 

“This is only my second one, I don't know...I only knew because my water broke during it.”

 

“You could've opened with that, Peter,” she said with a sigh. “That definitely wasn't your first contraction. I need you to think back, okay? Is there any point where you started feeling sick or something? Like flu-like symptoms?”

 

“Three days ago,” he said after a brief period of thought. “I started feeling like shit three days ago. It's gotten progressively worse.”

“Oh, honey...” she said, sounding like something had dawned on her and her voice was full of such sympathy and regret. “You're in for a rough time.”

 

“You want to elaborate on that?”

 

“Let me just ask you first; the contractions are bearable, right?”

 

“They're not that bad, no. I just don't want to talk during them. Or move.”

 

“You're still in early stage labor, and you have been for three days.”

 

“How long does it normally take?”

 

“Twelve hours, give or take. By the time you get here you probably won't be any closer to delivering. If I had to guess you're in for a really long labor.”

 

“Okay, so...hypothetically, if you're wrong...and we don't make it in time, what am I supposed to do?”

 

“I'm ninety-five percent sure you'll make it in time, and then some. But ...on the five percent chance, your body will know what to do. You just need someone to catch the baby. So...if it comes to it, tell Roman to support the head.”

 

“Fuck, I really don't want him down there...”

 

“Peter, I promise you...you won't care. You won't care about anything. But don't worry about that, okay? You're gonna be fine. You'll get through this, and you'll do it here. Try to time your contractions, see how long they are, how far apart they are. It'll be helpful for when you get here.”

 

“I'll try.”

 

“Better yet...don't drive into town with that van. I'll meet you and have Andreas take it.”

 

“Is that safe for him?”

 

“They're after you, not him. Hopefully it'll keep Olivia off your tail.”

 

He bid her a final farewell and slipped the phone into his pocket, leaning heavily against the seat and settling his hand on top of his stomach. For now, it was still. There was a remnant soreness from the last contraction but it was barely anything. He felt, in general, uncomfortable. His pants were already slightly damp; like droplets of liquid on cloth that bothered the shit out of him, not to mention the pressure. He felt an unpleasant heaviness in his pelvis. The more he thought on it, the more the gravity of the situation weighed on him. All these months had been leading up to this moment and yet he knew he wasn't at all ready for it. Even if these months had been very nearly torturous he was even more afraid to know that soon he was going to have to care for some tiny, helpless little thing and he wasn't sure if he could do a good job at it. Where would they go? How could they continue living life in a van with a tiny infant? What if she needed special care from being early?

 

 

Peter had a feeling that the earliness wouldn't make much of a difference, though. He knew how she'd been this entire pregnancy. He knew the probability of her spontaneously becoming full-term wasn't surprising. At eight months, from what little he'd been able to read, it seemed that they were mostly developed and the final month was dedicated to putting on weight. If nothing else she'd be born with all of her organs intact, perhaps just slightly too small. He had a feeling that this wasn't true, though. She was probably full-term because she'd gotten access to a mass of raw meat and blood. It had probably kicked her growth back into overdrive. Of course, he probably should have studied other things too, like how to properly get through labor. He had tried but it was hard to accurately understand what they meant just through text. He supposed that maybe a video would have helped but web pages loaded far easier than videos when you had no WiFi.

 

“What'd she say?” Roman said finally, and it made him jump slightly. Looking at him now, he looked so scared. They were both terrified and he knew it.

 

“To meet her outside of town,” he shifted uncomfortably for a moment, feeling suddenly very antsy. He hated the way his pelvis felt at the moment and he would do anything to make it stop. It wasn't painful, it was just incredibly unnerving. “We have time. This has been going on for three days.”

 

“I should've known something was up...I just thought you were getting sick. Did she say what to do in case...” he didn't want to say it, it seemed like, but Peter got what he meant.

 

“Support the head.” Roman let out a nervous chuckle at this, then went silent for quite some time. Peter rested his eyes for the time being, not at all knowing when the next time he would be able to sleep was. Roman spoke to him suddenly, and it took him a lot not to just ignore what he said but he did finally open his eyes and half glare at him from the side.

 

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

 

“Not right now, no...There's a lot of pressure.”

 

“I meant during contractions...”

 

“What do you think?” he snapped, not intending it to sound so mean but he knew it did. “Yes, it hurts, but I can handle it.”

 

Roman was silent again and seemed to be focusing on driving. It gave Peter time to think. To think about things he didn't really want to think about. That as he sat here his body was actively leading him to a point in which he would be completely vulnerable, in a place that was already so dangerous. He was terrified that Olivia would catch them and he would have no way of defending himself. He thought they were safer with Trinity gone but it seemed as though her demise would inevitably lead them straight back into the vipers nest. He was also slightly worried for Andreas and what might happened if he were caught. Olivia wouldn't kill him, not straight away anyway. But he could definitely give up their position with a little of her...persuasion.

 

He was taken away from his thoughts by another contraction, which hit him far differently from the last two. It came on much harder. The beginning felt almost like the peak, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. He straightened up slightly, feeling rigid and taking in a gasping breath. He was clutching the seat with one hand, and the underside of his abdomen with the other. Roman quickly stopped holding the steering wheel with both hands and laid it over his own, to which Peter quickly gripped onto instead. He felt somewhat soothed by the sense of Roman grabbing him back. He had to fight to bring back his breathing, and it was ragged and rough at first. Then he remembered what Destiny said and focused purely on his breathing. To breathe in deep, then breathe out. Each breath wavered as he exhaled, audible and somewhat high pitched. By the midway point it felt like someone was trying to pull out his guts through his crotch. He let out a stilted, pained hum until it began to decrease once more. By the time he'd come down he felt fucking exhausted already, panting, shaking and feeling sweat start to bead at his temple.

 

“Fucking Christ,” Peter panted.

 

“Should I be on the lookouts for places to stop?” Roman asked. “I seriously don't know how this shit works enough to gauge how close you are.”

 

“I'll let you know,” Peter said, wiping his face to rid himself of the feeling of sweat dripping down it. “I'm okay,” he breathed out, still trying to catch his breath. He swallowed, letting out a sort of wheezing gasp afterwards. “That one just fucking sucked. Sorry.”

 

“Why are you sorry?”

 

“For worrying you. That's the last sorry you're getting out of me tonight. Make it last.”

 

He glanced at the clock on the dash; he estimated it'd come at about eight minutes. Closer than the last two, he hoped they weren't going to keep getting close like this while he was in the van. Peter let out one final audible breath before his breathing evened out once more.

 

“Do you think you could actually do it?” he asked. “Do you think you could deliver this baby if you had to?”

 

“Well, I'd _have_ to, but I'd definitely call Destiny first and have her help me through it. I feel fucking useless right now, though. I can't do anything for you while I'm driving.”

 

“I won't hold you to it...”

 

“I still feel like I should've learned the shit. Coaching, or whatever the fuck it is. I just sit here, I can't even think of anything to say. It kind of scares the shit out of me, seeing you like that.”

 

“Haven't you seen worse?”

 

“Yeah...but this is different, somehow. Fuck, man, you're having my kid, literally. Soon, no doubt about it. This is big shit.”

 

Somehow, this amused Peter. It wasn't funny and Peter was scared as shit too, but seeing Roman frazzled was kind of funny to him. He knew he had a right to be. But Roman continued on, rambling it seemed to ease his own mind.

 

“I just...can't believe you're about to what you're going to do. It fucking baffles me. It scares me. Childbirth is fucked up. And I...Never mind.”

 

“What?” Peter asked, truly wanting to know what he'd been going to say.

 

“You don't need to know what I was thinking.”

 

“I do, now.” Peter said with a scoff.

 

“You know...” he cut himself off, let out a nervous breath and gripped Peter's hand a bit tighter. He should've probably put it back on the wheel by now but he hadn't. “You know what happened with the last baby. And it's something that's worried me since we first showed up at the Institute months ago, but I could forget about it because it wasn't actively happening but _now_...and you're not even going to a hospital to do this, like they could do anything anyway if something happened...”

 

“Roman,” Peter said, regretting telling him to speak up. “Shut up. Please.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “Yeah, I shouldn't be worrying you too. I know.”

 

Peter wasn't entirely afraid of death. He was afraid of the vulnerability more than the death, of being caught and caged. But he knew he'd rather die in childbirth, bleeding out slowly and almost blissful in the way that he knew he wasn't actually being murdered. The fear of Olivia finding them, of killing him, was somehow much greater because he knew at least then he'd have a slim chance to do something about it if he weren't incapacitated. He could do nothing about his own body's refusal to continue living. But of course, he didn't want to die, but if he let that become fear in his mind he knew that this whole situation would become far worse.

 

Peter didn't talk much for the rest of the ride. He felt generally uncomfortable and wanted to sleep, so he took brief ten minute naps in between contractions. Around the time they were getting close to home they ranged from seven to eight minutes apart instead. Peter groggily woke up long enough to text her they were close and set up a meeting place. As irony would have it their meeting place ended up being fairly close to the old Spivak practice outside of town. The place they had come back from that day to learn he was pregnant, now meeting there to travel home to give birth.

 

It didn't take them long to arrive, and they waited for Destiny there. Peter knew that the minute he stood up, the reality of how bad he'd fucked up his pants was going to become apparent. He knew that the blood and fluid had begun to leak through onto the seat but the seat was leather and easier to clean. Technically so was Destiny's but he didn't want to risk it. He cared less about this vehicle as it was probably going to end up going back to the Institute at some point anyway. With this in mind he turned to Roman, unfortunately the minute he started feeling another contraction coming up.

 

“Can you-,” he cut himself off, biting his lip and taking in a shaky breath. “Fuck...the sheet. Get the sheet.” He felt so uncomfortable where he sat, now. He just wanted to get up, or lay down maybe. He didn't want to keep sitting as he had been. His back was killing him and his hips sometimes felt like they were going to rocket off his body if he didn't move. He tilted them upwards, spreading his legs further and leaning more heavily against the seat. He just had to take it one second at a time. He kept thinking that, letting out panting breaths and digging his nails into the seat. He counted, or he tried, in his head.

 

 

Roman had gotten out of the seat to head to the back but he stopped, knelt over to run his hand along his shoulders with one hand, gripping his hand with the other. Roman half massaged his shoulder with one hand, despite the fact that the pain was lower but he knew he couldn't get to it.

 

“It's just a few more seconds,” Roman said. “You're almost done.”

Peter hadn't realized that Roman had been keeping track like he was. He let out a shuddered low moan towards the middle and tilted his head back, taking in deep breaths once the pain started fading again.

 

“I didn't know you've been keeping track,” he panted.

 

“Yeah, more or less.” Roman responded, reaching up to stroke the side of his hair.

 

“Thank you.”

 

 

Roman finally let go of him and headed into the back to take one of the sheets off the mattress. He heard him rummaging around back there over the sound of his still somewhat labored breathing, so he wasn't _exactly_ sure what he was doing but he hoped it was that.

 

“Are they getting worse?” Roman said, finally emerging to sit in the front with the sheet in his arms.

 

“A little,” he sighed. “I'm tired already, and my hips feel like they're going to fall off. I'm sick of sitting down.”

 

“Destiny should be here soon. You'll at least be able to move there.” With this, he reached over to lay his hand over Peter's just because. Even though he wasn't currently in much pain he appreciated it regardless. He closed his eyes for a moment and simply enjoyed his company. It had only been a minute by the time Destiny arrived. Roman quickly got out of the van after handing Peter the sheet, which he wrapped around his waist. He felt embarrassed to be getting out of the car knowing there was liquid running down the back of his pants, probably pooled where he'd been sitting. He left Peter there for a time while he got the bags out of the back of the car and put them in the trunk. When Peter finally did get out he felt a sense of foreboding energy from the now empty practice, sitting there like a grim reminder of the past. Though the leaves had begun to return to the trees, in this place everything just seemed dead underneath the moonlight. Peter noted that the moon was unusually bright, and upon looking up found it to be close to full. This put another time limit on him; if he gave birth when the moon was full he was afraid he might turn too soon after.

 

 

Roman put his hand on his back and helped him to the car despite the fact that he didn't need it. Andreas met them halfway between the car and the van, as Roman tossed him the keys.

 

“Good luck,” Andreas said to him before getting in starting the van up. He was just leaving by the time Peter slid into the back of the car, Roman sliding in soon after despite the fact that it left an empty seat up front. He was glad to have Roman close to him though, and he slid in close while Roman laid an arm over his shoulder.

 

“You doing okay, sweetie?” Destiny asked from the front seat, looking back at them. Peter only gave some vague hand gesture.

 

“What's with the sheet?”

 

“I'm leaking shit all over the place. I don't know what it is, it's dark. I don't want to get it on your seats.”

 

“Did your water not break all the way?” she asked, looking forward again to start driving once more. She pulled into the small space in front of the practice to make a u-turn, heading back into town now.

 

“I don't know...I don't know how that shit works.”

 

“It probably hasn't had the chance to come out all the way because you've been sitting up.” She was silent for a few seconds, and Peter tried to distract himself of the silence by watching the shadows of trees pass from outside the window. Though Peter didn't quite like what she said, he was grateful when she spoke again. Knowing he was getting so much closer to town made him nervous. Silence only made that worse. “I want to check how far you're dilated when we get there. Then I'm going to give you something to wear; it's a plain gown, but it's probably better if you don't wear pants, or if you do to wear some kind of a pad but I doubt you'll want that.”

 

“I do not,” Peter clarified. Somehow it seemed more unpleasant to him having to wear a sanitary napkin. He was not a female. He thought, as he was currently bleeding and leaking from an artificial vagina in preparation to birth a child.

 

“How far apart have your contractions been?”

 

“Eight minutes.”

 

“And is there _anything_ you know about what you're going to have to do?”

 

“I know that eventually I'm going to have to push a kid out, and that it gets worse.”

 

“You _really_ should have studied breathing techniques...This is going to make my job a lot harder.”

 

“Sorry,” he said with a mild hint of sarcasm.

“You're the one who's going to be sorry.”

 

The minutes ticked by, and Peter was once again stricken with a somewhat intense contraction. He looked up at the clock; seven minutes. It had been seven minutes. He pursed his lips and held back a muffled whimper at the start. Roman lowered the hand around his shoulders to run along his abdomen. He reached with the second hand to hold the one at Peter's side.

 

“Count the seconds with me,” he said softly, before he began speaking the numbers allowed.

 

“I can't,” he responded. It was strained and winded, breaking towards the end as he let out a whine that stuck somewhere in his lungs.

 

“I'll do it for you,” he said, interrupting his own counting to tell him.

 

“Keep breathing, Peter.” Destiny said from the front seat. And he tried, and did alright he thought. Deep breaths, slow exhales. Roman counted from beside him and he did best to keep up in his head. He leaned his head on Roman's shoulder though he shifted his hips forward in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure and the pain.

 

“You're almost there,” Roman said, but as he said it he reached the most painful point. It made his breath catch in his breath for a moment, and it _hurt_. For a moment the only expression he was able to make was strangled, high pitched gasping noises in the back of his throat before he suddenly found his voice. For some reason the only thing he could think to do when he found his voice was shout out, “Fucking... _cunt!_ ”

 

“Thi-uh...okay,” Roman said, stopping suddenly. “Shit, I lost count.”

 

“Thirty-eight,” Destiny said, amusement clear in her voice.

 

Roman continued on though he did so very cautiously, and Peter road through a peak that seemed far longer than the others. He continued on, letting out high guttural expressions of pain breathed out on strangled breaths, listening to Roman count on and holding onto his words so desperately. They distracted him from the pain, reminded him he was close to being finished with this round. It dropped of almost abruptly around forty-eight seconds. It still left him gasping for breath, and he moved to rest his hand over the one along the side of his abdomen now. He very nearly collapsed against him as though the last one had taken all of his energy.

 

Roman raised his hand from Peter's abdomen to his hair once more, running his fingers through it soothingly and somewhat down his neck. He left very gentle scratches on his skin and Peter, for some reason, really enjoyed that. He laced his fingers with Roman's during his brief downtime, though he still felt very winded and hot. He was sweating now to the point where it was becoming hard to ignore and he felt badly for Roman having to hold him because he knew he probably did not smell very good and was most likely getting him slightly damp in places.

 

“I'm sorry,” Peter mumbled. “Fuck I feel like I need a shower.”

 

“That's not advisable.” Destiny said.

 

“Can I at least take a whore's bath or something after you check me?”

 

“If that'll make you happy.”

 

During his moment of weakness, they'd already pulled into town. He hadn't realized at first, ignorant to everything around him and simply staring at the floor in hopes that he could pass this. They pulled below a set of streetlights, illuminating the car a fair deal as Destiny stopped beneath a red light. She turned to look at him, putting her arm up on the back of the seat.

 

“You still doing alright?” she asked. Peter wasn't sure why she needed to check, but he nodded. In the dim light of the street lamps though he noticed something strange, at first thinking it was a trick of the light. She was wearing a light pink shirt and he noticed a creeping dark around her breasts, as weird as it felt to look at them it called his attention.

 

“Your...shirt,” he muttered. “It's wet.”

 

“Shit!” she cursed, quickly turning and covering her breasts with one arm, either trying to hide it or wipe it clean. At this point the light had turned green again and she sped off.

 

“Are you okay...?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about it,” she said nervously.

 

Peter, at first, was confused as to her sudden fear. But he realized, as awkward as it was, how much bigger her breasts actually seemed and what the presence of liquid around the usually meant despite the fact that he'd not dealt with it himself.

 

“Wait...” Peter started, to which Destiny quickly shut him down.

 

“You shut your mouth, Peter! It's bad luck, don't say anything. Don't even think about it.”

 

“Shit, I'm sorry I -,”

 

“Peter!” she hissed.

“Okay!”

 

This was certainly an unexpected development. To find out his cousin had been harboring a secret pregnancy while on the way to her home so she could deliver _his_ baby. He felt bad...waking her up, forcing her to do this, now knowing her condition. He couldn't go to the Institute, though...That was too close to Olivia. He was certain that's how Trinity found out about his deal with blood in the first place. But still, he had that burning question in his mind.

 

“Does this make me an uncle...?”

 

“Peter, I will leave you on the sidewalk if you don't stop.” she threatened, though he knew she wasn't serious.

 

“Okay,” he said with a slight laugh.

 

 

They arrived several minutes later, by the time they were going up the steps Peter had to fight not to fall down them from a very poorly timed contraction. He relented to them and managed to sit down on the steps until it passed. To his luck it was not one of the worse ones. Short, only mildly painful, but he still felt unsafe to stand. When they reached the door Peter noted a peculiar note on it. It read 'DRUG DETOX, DON'T CALL THE COPS.'. Peter had to assume Destiny had already thought that someone might find it suspicious to hear someone yowling in pain, as she probably guessed he would, and needed an excuse. He just hoped someone saw it if they were getting suspicious. She headed inside and locked the door, flipping on the light. Peter noticed that everything had been moved around. The couches had been moved , and where the coffee table once sat was an air-mattress littered with several dozen pillows, sheets, and blankets. The coffee table sat next to it, upon which it almost looked like a surgical theater. There was a box of gloves, a glass jar containing something that almost looked like surgical tools suspended in a clear liquid, rags, towels, paper towels, tissues, a closed box that said FIRST AID on it. There also looked to be some things beneath the coffee table as well, put in clear boxes, but he could barely see what it was. At the edge of the coffee table was a trashcan, and at the end of the mattress the couch was pushed flush against it so that it was almost an extension of it. They were roughly the same height.

 

“I know this looks unorthodox but this is the easiest for everyone, I've found out. There's more room. Just take your pants off, and you can cover yourself up with one of those sheets. Or the one you're wearing now. I'll be back.”

 

Roman helped to lead him over to the mattress despite him being able to walk on his own, it seemed Roman was just being overly cautious. He set the bags he'd slung over his shoulder from the trunk nearby, on the edge of one of the pushed away couches, in case they'd need it. He kept the sheet wrapped around him as he undid his pants and let them fall in a heap next to the bed, climbing on seconds later. It seemed strange that she insisted doing it in the living room, but he had to imagine it was because there was simply better room. Everything was somewhat crowded together at the moment but it seemed to be for the sake of being able to easily reach medical supplies. He also supposed that it might be easier for Destiny to deliver the baby sitting or kneeling rather than awkwardly trying to stand at the end of the bed.

 

 

Peter, at the moment, sat with his legs drawn up, but sort of wished there was something he could lean against. Thankfully, Roman slid in behind him to support him. He leaned against his chest, hand rested against his stomach while Roman threaded his fingers between Peter's to lay atop it by proxy. He closed his eyes briefly in an attempt to get the tiniest wink of sleep before Destiny returned, sporting a far less wet shirt and a gown in her arms. From what Peter could tell it looked like a hospital gown, but instead of tying in the back it tied on the side.

 

“Okay,” she said with a sigh, positioning herself between the couch and mattress, she reached over to the table beside her and grabbed a towel. “I need you to lay back a bit, so scoot down onto this towel,” she said, laying the towel out in a square on the mattress.

 

He did as he was asked, sliding down until he was actually laying in Roman's lap. He felt an uncomfortable shift in his abdomen and the presence of warm liquid leaking from the opening. He cringed slightly at the sensation, not to mention as he spread his legs things felt very slick and wet. When he'd been wearing pants it wasn't as noticeable but now with the air it quickly cooled whatever fluid was on him.

 

“It would help if you could get one of those pillows under your hips. Can you do that?”

 

Peter nodded, and blindly reached behind him for the pillow mountain and slipped one beneath his hips, thus raising them up slightly. It was uncomfortable but Peter had a feeling it was just so she could see better. He felt awkward already.

 

“I know this is awkward for you but if I don't do this soon, and you start contracting again, it's going to make this a lot harder. So I'm just letting you know I'm doing this now,” Destiny said, reaching beside her to pull out a pair of gloves from the box and slip them on. “This is going to feel a little uncomfortable,” she said, and she pushed the sheet back from around his legs so that he was far more exposed, sitting now around his hips.

 

“Oh-...God!” she suddenly shouted, sounding shocked by whatever it was she saw. This worried him, and he fought to look down at her from his side. He wasn't even sure what to ask but he settled on “Is she okay?”

 

“I...I mean, I don't know. I'm sure she's alright. It's just that usually with women there's not this much...blood, or mucous.”

 

“So is this not normal?” Peter asked, his own voice betraying him as he tried to keep the sound of his fear at bay. But he was afraid.

 

“I don't know. I'm going to have to make a phone call in a second, but I have to do this first.”

 

She entered him without any sort of lubrication, he noted, but that was because she needed none. She was able to slip her finger into him with very little resistance, and she did so until her knuckles were touching his skin. He suddenly felt a jolt of pain radiate in his abdomen as she did this. A sort of sharp, radiating ache. Seconds after she did this, pushing against that painful place inside of him, he felt a sudden gush of liquid from deep within him. It was more than he thought he could have in him, given how wet he felt already.

 

“That was the rest of your waters,” she clarified before he had time to ask. “You weren't leaking much amniotic fluid. You were leaking blood and mucous.” She let out a hum of what almost sounded to him like disappointment and threw the gloves into the garbage next to her.

 

“You're only four centimeters...You should be much further.” Destiny scooted back on the mattress until she was closer to the couch and pulled her phone from her pocket. She put it on speaker for the benefit of keeping her hands free if she needed them. Peter listened to the distant ringing until he heard a voice pick up. The man did not speak English, but Peter recognized it as being his own tongue and could get an understanding of what they were saying.

 

“Hello?” he'd said, “This is Doctor Lakatos … Who am I speaking with?”

 

“I'm sorry to bother you but my name is Destiny. We spoke a few months back...I'm being tasked with delivering from a male wolf but I'm a midwife who usually delivers from human women.” she sad, though of course it wasn't in English. “I'm out of my depth, I could use some advice.”

 

“I see...Are there any facilities to assist if something were to go wrong?”

 

“There is, but he doesn't trust anyone but family. He's being obstinate.”

 

“I'm not deaf!” Peter said to her, of course in his own tongue despite the fact that he knew Destiny spoke English. “I am _not_ being obstinate, I'm being safe.”

 

“The only facility is...well, it's dangerous,” Destiny admitted. “The father of the baby's mother has ties to it and she's not happy about the whole thing. They're not experts on delivering from males, either.”

 

“This puts the two of you in a far more dangerous predicament...I'll try to give you any advice you need, regardless. What is it you need to know?”

 

“Well...honestly, I'm confused about all of this blood and mucous. This is very different from what I'm used to.”

 

“Yes, birth from a male is not quite as straight forward. The body tries to generate an excessive amount of mucous because the male body isn't built for delivering children, even with the temporary birth canal. The body is also preparing to detach the uterus and birth canal from the rest of him. The blood will leech through the walls of the mucous membranes. There _will_ be a lot of blood, but I've not lost a patient yet due to blood loss. Even in a medical setting it's still impossible to do a transfusion.”

 

“That's good to know, I suppose...I don't know if this is specific to males, but he's been in labor for three days and has been having progressive contractions but is only four centimeters dilated...Usually if there are complications I'll send the woman to the hospital but ...”

 

“That is an unfortunate problem with males. The labor progresses normally, but dilation may not occur. I have seen it happen very suddenly but more than likely we have to intervene medically if it's becoming apparent that they're one of these kind of patients. We usually inject Pitocin but that sometimes doesn't work either. Though I certainly wouldn't recommend this with women as it could do permanent cervical damage, it's sometimes necessary to open it manually. I'd give it some time to see if it will dilate on its own but if it goes on too long you'll have to do it.”

 

“Oh God,” Destiny said, though it was more breathed out in despair than anything. “Is there anything else I should know?”

 

“Well...if you were at all planning a water birth, I would recommend against it. The entire uterus and birth canal will be delivered instead of the placenta. It will leave an open cavity to the abdomen for a moment and it would be very dangerous for water to enter the cavity. It will only take a moment to reform, fortunately. It will be like when the birth canal formed, only in reverse and faster.”

 

“Okay,” Destiny said, restraining a sigh and pushing her hair back in a display of nervousness. “I don't suppose you've ever dealt with cross breeding, have you?”

 

“Yes, if you mean human and wolf, the outcome is generally the same. Is the father a human...? The danger is more likely from social standards.”

 

“The father is...upir,” Destiny said with some hint of shame in her voice.

 

“Upir...?” he asked, and Peter could hear fear and confusion in his voice. “That shouldn't even be possible...I don't believe I've ever seen a wolf and an upir that get along.”

 

“This one managed...”

 

“I...I'm sorry, I can't help you any further. I've given you all the information I can. Good day,” he said, and abruptly hung up.

 

“What the fuck just happened?” Peter asked, finding it easier to speak in English now that Destiny wasn't speaking something else.

 

“I think you scared him by breeding with an upir.” Destiny said, then gave him a brief reassuring pat of sorts on the knee before she stood up. “Go get changed, and cleaned up if you want to.”

 

 

Peter eased himself off the bed and wrapped the sheet he'd been carrying around for the last several minutes around his waist to keep himself covered. It's not like Destiny hadn't been staring at his crotch a few seconds ago but shirt-cocking it was awkward to every party. Roman, of course, followed him like a frightened, overly large puppy.

 

“You have boundary issues,” Peter said, but allowed him to follow anyway.

 

“I can't just let you go in there on your own in good conscience.”

 

“What do you think's going to happen?”

 

“I don't know, Peter. That's what scares me.”

 

 

He didn't like undressing in front of Roman but at this point, he was too sore, tired and irritated to care. He still told him to turn around at least, at which point he hastily cleaned up where he could, the best he could. Thankfully Andreas had left his spray on deodorant, so he would at least not smell so offensive for a few hours. When he'd finished he asked Roman to help tie the gown on him. It came down to about knee level so it was fortunately far less exposing than walking around in just a sheet; one that could fall off at any minute.

 

“Can you go now?” Peter asked, now that he was dressed. “I need to use the bathroom, I think you can afford to be out of here for a minute at least.” Roman sighed at this and left begrudgingly. He'd felt like he needed to use the bathroom for at least a good hour now, uncertain with the pressure pushing so hard down on his pelvis if it was Nikki or yet another call of nature. He felt like stopping would've been a far worse idea, though he was glad he'd been able to wait it out until this point because he imagined this would've been a far more awkward time had he not.

 

 

It was terror the entire time, he knew he was overdue for a contraction. He didn't want to experience this while on the toilet. To his relief, it didn't take long and he rushed out of there about a minute later. He was nervous now, as it seemed to have been at least ten minutes and counting since his last contraction. He wondered if somehow his labor had stopped? Was that possible at this point? He knew that he'd have to have her soon because there was no amniotic fluid left, or he would have been slightly alright with holding off a little longer if he could. So now he was just waiting; it was the waiting and the knowing that was somehow worse than the pain itself.

 

He returned with Roman, who had been waiting outside the door like a creep, to find Destiny sitting on the couch not attached to the mattress, looking winded and tired.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked her, stepping up from behind. It jolted her for a moment, but she merely let out a sigh afterwards.

 

“I'm just tired. You should get some rest, Peter. I know it might be hard for you right now with the pain but you should try. You're going to need all your energy for later. I can watch over you if you want.”

 

“What's the point?” he asked, easing himself back onto the mattress. He sat facing her, with his legs off the edge. “You don't need to be awake if I'm asleep.”

 

“If something happens, though...”

 

“Destiny just...go, please. I feel like an asshole.”

 

“Peter, no...You're not an asshole, this isn't your fault.” She hesitated, lips pursed in thought, and then she spoke once more. “Are you sure? I can sleep on the couch.”

 

“Go sleep in your bed.”

 

“If you need anything-,”

“I'll get you, I know.”

 

“Okay...You should sleep with a towel between your legs if you can. Not that I care about the sheets but...”

 

“I will.” Peter felt the bed shift, and noticed Roman had slid in next to him. He was holding a towel in his hand from the coffee table.

 

“Goodnight, Peter.” she said, moving to turn the light off and drowning them in darkness.

 

“Do you think you can sleep?” Roman asked, settling on his side next to him. Peter swung his legs over and took the towel from him, shoving it between his legs and turning on his side to face Roman.

 

“I can try...” he said, closing the distance between them. He had to rearrange half the pillows; the bed was ninety percent pillow. Perhaps he would come to appreciate it later. He had already begun to doze off when that missing contraction finally caught up to him. Starting lower in his back, he whimpered not just from pain but from distress.

 

“Fuck,” he breathed out, burying his face against Roman's shirt. “I was so close-so close to sleeping,” he said with a whine. Roman reached around him to pull him close, and to run his hand along his lower back despite the fact that it was steadily moving forward and effecting other areas.

 

“I'm sorry,” Roman said sympathetically. Peter could do little to respond at this point, only let out slow exhales and try to ride through it. He felt the pressure increase again; it seemed it did every time he contracted, but he knew it would ease off a bit after. It wasn't as bad this time; it could have been worse. It hurt nonetheless and it stopped him from being asleep. When it eased off he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. A heavy and audible exhale, panting slightly afterwards to regain his former breathing pattern.

 

“I really hate seeing you like this,” Roman said, rubbing circles on his lower back now. “It really scares me.”

 

“It's not happening to you...” he muttered.

 

“I just hate that I can't do anything about it.”

 

Peter didn't respond, he only burrowed his face deeper into Roman's shoulder and let out an unimportant muffled expression, breathing deep and trying to distract himself from the predicament at hand. Roman smelled like nothing in particular, other than cheap fabric softener, deodorant and hints of leftover cologne, but he enjoyed it none-the-less.

 

“Are you smelling me?” Roman asked with an amused tone.

 

“You smell good and it's distracting,” he said, tilting his head to the side slightly to speak. Roman chuckled and lifted his hand to stroke his hair.

 

“Okay, if that helps.”

 

 

Exhaustion eventually ran out. Peter drifted off to sleep, only to be awoken several times by pain. He was in a state of half being asleep and awake for it; a sort of twilight experience. Roman was there for him every time and if Peter hadn't been so out of it he would have wondered if Roman slept at all. But at some point during the night he stopped feeling them as much. He passed out at some point, and he dreamed painful dreams. He felt them still technically in his sleep but he didn't truly wake.

 

 

Roman, truly, had not slept that well. It was the fear that kept him awake. What was he so afraid of when Destiny had said nothing would be happening soon? He knew he passed out probably around the same point Peter did, and woke up far before him. Destiny was sitting at the island with coffee in front of her; she was the first thing he saw as he'd somehow rolled over in the night. Light was drifting in through the still closed, reddish curtains that hung in front of her window. It gave the room an almost pleasant warm, red glow. He turned to Peter, watching him sleep somewhat fitfully. His hand raised, hesitant, wanting to reach out and touch him but Destiny admonished him with an expression from the back of her throat that made him stop.

 

“Don't,” she said quietly. Roman carefully dislodged himself from the pile of blankets and pillows and slid off the mattress, making his way towards the island. There was a still steaming pot of coffee at the counter and Roman made a brief gesture, a raise of his brow, and Destiny nodded in response. He poured himself a cup and seated himself at the island. Black and bitter; he didn't really care.

 

“What time is it?” he asked, staring blearily into the blackness in his mug. His voice came out hoarse, heavy with sleep.

 

“Around ten a.m.”

 

“Do you...” he paused, what exactly was he trying to ask her? “Do you know anything?”

 

Destiny nodded, taking a deep sip of her coffee before setting it down with a dull ceramic thud.

 

“Not much, from just watching the two of you sleep...But six minutes, that's about how far they look to be apart. They're getting worse. I can tell by watching him that they hurt but thankfully he's sleeping through it for now. I don't want to wake him up, though. He needs to build up his energy. I know he'll be pissed and in a world of hurt when he wakes up, so I'm trying to spare him of that too. I can bet you he's barely dilated, anyway.”

 

“How do you know?” Roman asked, taking a sip of the scalding liquid. It burned more than he'd thought it would. He winced and swallowed, feeling it burn all the way down. “Is it a psychic thing?” he asked, his voice once again hoarse but this time from the burning in his throat.

 

“It's just a feeling. I actually can't see shit lately. Because of the...you know,” she said, gesticulating. Roman was quiet for some time, but he still felt the burning of a question in the back of his mind. A question he needed to ask, even if Destiny would be pissed for asking.

 

“How long?”

 

Destiny merely answered by holding up three fingers.

 

“We haven't even been gone from here for that long...”

 

“Astute. Now shut up.”

 

 

Roman never really understood why it was bad luck to say anything before the second trimester, but he'd heard the fear before. They certainly hadn't done this with Peter, although Roman knew that 'bad luck' usually referred to miscarriage and at that point Peter was literally incapable of doing so. He took another sip of his coffee and was momentarily distracted, hearing a low and drawn out expression of pain from the other side of the room. He watched as Peter turned over so that he was facing away from him, curling into himself and whimpering quietly. Thankfully, and somehow, he was still asleep. Roman felt a tinge of fear jolt his stomach when he managed to dislodge the sheet from around his middle. The bottom, back half of the gown was soaked red and the towel between his legs, once blue, was now nearly black in places. Black and slick, shimmering with blood and thick, clearish fluid.

 

“Poor thing...” Destiny said quietly. “I feel so bad for him.”

 

“Is this worse than your other..patients?” Roman wasn't quite sure how to phrase it, as Destiny wasn't really a doctor by any means.

 

“Well...yes, but even if it wasn't, he's still my cousin. He means more to me.”

 

 

They sat there in silence for some time longer, until Roman finally finished off his coffee and headed to the bathroom. He expected a long and arduous day ahead of him. Though it wasn't him who would be sitting there in agony for the rest of the day he felt sorrow and remorse just as much. He could only hope that this went by smoothly, without much more issues than they were already having. Knowing their luck, though, Roman could almost guarantee that something was going to go wrong. He did not, however, realize that the simple act of leaving Peter while he was asleep to use the bathroom would be such an issue.

 

 

 

Destiny hadn't been wrong, though Peter knew nothing of the conversation, he was _incredibly_ irritable when he woke up. He knew distantly the pain he'd been experiencing during his sleep, but finally it was the pain that woke him up. It was not a gentle, blissful ascent from the land of sleep. It was a violent hand that had dug it's clawed talons into his torso and ripped him away screaming and terrified. All he knew was that he was awake, and that he was in terrible pain. For a moment he wasn't even sure where he was; waking in a somewhat unfamiliar location didn't help matters. He felt the sensation that his whole body might snap in half from the pressure and pain in his middle, and he arched his back and his hips against the mattress in his severely tangled state and screamed. Not so much a scream as it was a guttural, almost primal groan. He could not breathe, for the only reason his lungs took in air was to emit it seconds later in an expression of agony.

 

 

Destiny was by him suddenly, and she had attempted to dislodge him from the contorted state he was in, with his middle facing sideways but his hips twisted towards the mattress. It did not help matters in the least bit to be in such a position but he felt as though he was truly incapable of untangling himself. Instead of helping him up, Peter found comfort in burying his face in her abdomen and wrapping his arms around her, to muffle his tormented screams in her shirt. He felt her hands on his back, only briefly until they ventured downwards and pushed onto one side of his hips until finally he righted himself and his body was facing one direction instead of two.

 

“You're okay,” she said soothingly, stroking his hair and his back, to which he found his voice long enough to scream into her, “I'm not okay!”

 

He suddenly grew tired of laying down, and pulled away from her to struggle into a sitting position. He sat on his knees, with his legs spread below him and bracing himself with his arms on the mattress. She ran her hand along his back while he closed his eyes tightly and felt his breath leave him, stuck in his throat, suffocating him until he once more emitted a guttural cry until he ran out of air. He felt like his insides were very nearly on fire. His muscles clenched so hard, and so greatly, that it actually burned.

 

“Where the _fuck_ is Roman?!” he asked, the minute the pain began to finally abate just enough for him to speak. It still left him with a persistent soreness and the inability to breathe correctly but for now he was just _angry_.

 

“He's in the bathroom, don't worry. He didn't leave you.”

 

“He better not have,” he said, still gasping for breath. He realized now that he was shaking somewhat, and once again soaked in sweat. He felt like he was burning alive. “I feel like I'm on fire,” he whimpered. He thought he'd been uncomfortable before, but this was worse. He almost felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack. He felt trapped, too hot, too emotionally compromised, like he wanted to get up and walk but he didn't think he physically could at the moment. “How much longer of this shit do I have?”

 

“You're only six minutes apart...”

 

“I don't know what the fuck that's supposed to mean,”

 

“It means a while. I mean, I'd think. I need to check your cervix but you just woke up so I'll give you a minute. Do you want me to get you some ice water? It might make you throw up, but you might throw up anyway.”

 

“I don't care,” Peter said, still having trouble catching his breath. He sounded so hopeless. “Please.”

 

“Is that a yes?”

 

“Yes it's a yes.”

 

Destiny slid off the bed, seconds before Roman finally reappeared. For some reason, his very appearance enraged Peter because he hadn't been there when he woke up. Logically he knew it made no sense, but he felt so miserable that he didn't care.

 

“How the fuck do you spend so much time in the bathroom when all you do is drink liquid?!” he asked, to which Roman had no apparent answer.

 

“I-...I don't know, Jesus.”

 

“I warned you, Roman.” Destiny said, returning with a bottles of ice water. There was a lid on top of it with a straw attached; it looked like one of those jogging water bottles. There was a bowl tucked into her other arm, which she deposited onto the coffee table before handing him the water bottle.

 

“I'm going to put the end-table next to you so you can reach it, okay?”

 

“Should you be lifting that?” Peter asked, taking a drink and feeling both soothed and somewhat nauseated at the contrast of coolness rushing into his stomach, of which felt incredibly hot.

 

“It's an end-table, Peter. I'm not helpless.” She lifted it easily, as she probably could because the thing was light weight. She set it next to the upper part of the mattress, which made getting out between the coffee table a little more difficult but there was still a good bit of space. Roman very hesitantly climbed on from the other side and sat next to him, seemingly nervous that he was about to get reamed for having dared to not be there at the right moment. He didn't fit very well and was very nearly falling off the edge of the bed, at which point Peter snapped at him for a completely different reason.

 

“Just get behind me,” he said, though it was incredibly bitter and angry sounding. “Unless you don't want me leaning against you.” Roman sighed at this, and eased himself behind Peter so that he could lean against him.

 

“Do you have a fucking problem?” he asked, knowing that he was being unreasonable somewhere deep in the back of his mind but the front of his mind couldn't tell him to shut the fuck up.

 

“No,” Roman said, after some hesitation.

 

Destiny shot Roman a sympathetic look and set the bowl down on the end-table instead of on the coffee table. He set the bottle down along with it as soon as he was able.

 

“If you feel like you're going to get sick, use this.”

 

Peter nodded, but then realized he was far less concerned about getting sick than he was having to pee. He attempted to get up, but found himself unable to easily, and Destiny looked at him with some concern.

 

“Do you need something?”

 

“I need to pee, can I do that?” he asked, and it sounded more aggressive than it needed to be.

 

“Um...yeah but I don't know if you should really be walking to the bathroom... I mean you can get up and walk around but I don't want you to fall or anything trying to get there.”

 

“I think I can walk. What would be the difference between walking around here and to the bathroom?”

 

“Because it's further, and you don't have much time. You're not going to want to be walking when the next contraction hits.”

 

“Fine, okay, what do you want me to do?”

 

“What I have most of the women who come here do,” she said, reaching under the table to pull out one of the boxes. She opened it up and pulled out a round, stainless steel bowl of sorts. He realized it was a bedpan seconds later.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“I do this for everyone, Peter. You're not the first. You don't need to be embarrassed. But you're running out of time to decide on this.” He sighed and sat forward some, preparing to adjust himself.

 

“This is really demeaning,” he said as she slid the pan forward, to which he desperately tried to position himself over it. He had the basic gist of how to use one, and he managed to lean forward enough so that he could reach under the gown through the side with one hand, bracing himself with the other. Roman helped to keep him steady by holding his hand against the side that wasn't braced. He unfortunately had to pull his gown up in the front a bit but the edge of the pan was high enough so that Destiny couldn't really see anything. It's not like he should be considered, knowing that she'd have to get between his legs again very soon anyway.

 

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. I can leave the room if you want.”

 

“Forget it, it's fine.” he said, though it took him a moment for his bladder to finally release, with the shame of doing it in front of his cousin making things a bit hard for him. He tried to look anywhere but at her. It might've been better for her to leave but then he'd just have to call her back in to take it, and that might make things even more awkward. He felt bad in general for having to make her take it. He supposed Roman could do it but he didn't really want Roman to leave him, because he wanted _someone_ around for the next contraction and he knew how pissed it'd made him that Roman had been absent for the last one.

 

 

She took the basin wordlessly when he had finished and he settled back again, and Roman settled his hand over Peter's once more. He stroked the skin there lightly, traveling up his wrist, his forearm, kissing the hollow of his neck gently. It was soothing, and he felt bad for being angry at him. He only had about two seconds to feel bad because he felt the telltale pain rearing up again in his lower half. He knew he had since moved past the point where the beginning of contractions were more bearable. It came on hard and sudden; it took his breath away and he was gasping for breath, once again trapped by pain. Roman reached down to grab his hand once more, gripping it tightly and rubbing his other arm.

 

“You can do this,” he said, “It's just a couple of seconds. You can do seconds, right?”

 

He responded to this with a low and drawn out growl. His body once more felt like it was about to snap in half and he felt like pushing back, against Roman, desperately trying to get away from the pain. It made no sense; he knew he couldn't get away but he had to try. Roman abandoned stroking his arm and settled it on his stomach again. Towards the side, pushing against it and moving downwards in towards the center, repeating. He knew that was what Destiny had told him to do, distantly, and it helped to bring him some comfort. Even if he hated Roman touching him there, he didn't give a shit where he touched him now. It rose once more to that awful point where it hurt the most, and he had to fight to not snap Roman's hand in his grasp. From behind gritted teeth came a high pitched groan that wavered as he lost breath, but it had luckily begun descending that mountain of pain when he needed to breath once more.

 

 

He fell boneless against Roman as it passed, and he struggled to breath and though he felt no more pain like he had he felt despair. It was at this point Destiny walked back in to put the now clean pan back under the table in the box. He still whimpered pathetically against him, still struggling to breathe, as he very nearly cried when he spoke.

 

“I don't want to do this anymore,” he said. “And I know I'm not even fucking close to finished.”

 

“I know, honey,” Destiny said sympathetically. She came to sit in front of him on the mattress, pulling the gloves toward her; she didn't tell him what she wanted, he already knew, but he couldn't really bring himself to do anything to help her. “You know, the reason they tell women to breathe is because it's something to focus on. If you keep focusing on the pain, it's so much worse. So you need to focus on your breathing or find something else to focus on.” She pulled on her gloves and gestured for him to lay back, then helped to slip the pillow under his hips when he did.

 

“How do you _still_ have this towel between your legs?” Destiny asked, and Peter really hadn't realized it was still there. It was a miracle he hadn't pissed on it, or maybe he had, he couldn't tell. Everything just hurt down there to begin with. It hurt, he was uncomfortable, he literally couldn't tell what was what. But he was surprised it hadn't fallen. The reason being was that when Destiny tried to pull it away it didn't come quietly. It had literally gotten stuck to him; fused to his skin with dried up blood and mucous. She pulled it away and it made a very unpleasant sounding tearing noise, and it hurt, and he was pretty sure he lost some hair, but it wasn't anything like the pain he had been feeling.

 

“How did you manage this?” she said, though it was more to herself than anything. “You really are a mess down here...”

 

“Thanks,” Peter said, somewhat strained and tired sounding.

 

She pushed his legs open further and then entered him once more with very little resistance. He felt pain again when she got to where he was going; that sharp, unpleasant cramping feeling that wasn't completely unlike contractions but definitely lesser.

 

“Shit...” she mumbled. “Peter...you haven't made _any_ progress. I mean, maybe a tiny bit but...it's not even a full centimeter more.”

 

“What can you do about that?” he asked, while Destiny pulled her hand away and disposed of the gloves once more. He noticed just how much blood was on them when she tossed them into the trash.

 

“I'm going to give it a little longer, see if you'll open up naturally. If you don't...I'm going to have to do it. Then I'll wait, and hope I don't have to do it again.”

 

“Couldn't you just open it up all the way at once?”

 

“Peter, trust me when I say you do _not_ want me to do that. Your body won't know how to react, for one. It might even slow down your labor. It's best for everything to happen as natural as possible to avoid confusing your body. Not like it's not already confused but you don't want to make it worse.”

 

“What is for two?”

 

“For two...you're only at four centimeters, and it hurts. You don't want me to take it from four to ten at one time because it will put you in a lot of pain.”

 

“I don't understand why the fuck I can't do this,” he responded mournfully. “I mean...I take my fucking skin off, all the time. Why can't I do this? Why does this hurt so much?”

 

“It's a different kind of pain. Not to mention you're not a woman. Women are bred to be able to withstand the pain of childbirth, men aren't. But these are also _really_ strong contractions. Your body is fighting really hard, but it's fighting against itself.”

 

“I thought I could do this,” he said, fighting to bring himself into a sitting position again. He didn't exactly lean against Roman but found it easier to lean forward. “I wasn't afraid of the pain. I am now.”

 

“This is going to end, Peter,” Destiny said, gently rubbing the place between his shoulder and his elbow. “You just have to keep that in mind. Then you never have to do this again. I hope. Don't do this again, okay?”

 

“Okay,” he said, his voice still sounding strained and hoarse despite the fact that he was doing very little. He pushed the pillow aside as he righted himself as much as he was going to. “I don't plan on it.” he reached once more for the bottle and drank deeply, knowing in the back of his mind this was going to be a mistake but he was once again burning alive and thirsty. He put it back moments later.

 

 

Destiny gave him a sad but somehow reassuring smile and hopped off the side of the mattress, heading into the kitchen and returning with a wet rag moments later. She handed it to him, with the instruction to drape it around his neck to help cool him off. She headed off to the kitchen a few seconds later, pulling another, smaller bowl from the cabinets and filling it up with water and ice. He was not blessed with a lengthy wait time, and it seemed as though he had barely caught his breath. The pain returned and he let out a strangled low moan and leaned over as though to curl in on himself as much as possible. Roman thankfully leaned forward to rub his lower back, but at this point it barely did anything. He did as Destiny told him to do and focused on his breathing, just his breathing. He focused on the way in entered, but still he let out audible, pained groans upon their exit. He found himself not needing to vocalize quite as much when he really focused hard on breathing but he didn't know for how long.

 

 

Destiny had started her return to the living room but seemed interrupted as her phone wrung, and Peter could care less at this moment if she answered and whoever the fuck on the other line could hear him. He was only distantly aware of this fact when he peaked and felt pain intense enough that his only comfort in life was to growl out the most offensive obscenities he could possibly think of in his own tongue. It ended with such a pitched howl of agony, devolving into a feral growling noise that it might have sounded completely inhuman to anyone else. Peter was not even entirely certain it _was_ human. He knew the wolf within him was stirring violently. The pain brought it out, woke it up from its slumber and at points when the pain was bad enough he could feel himself melding with it. Times when he felt more animal than human. It was afraid and angry, and as most people knew an animal in pain was dangerous. Peter only prayed he could keep it at bay.

“Jesus, Peter!” Destiny said, “That was vile!”

 

Peter's only response was to give a pathetic whimper and sit up long enough so that he could lay back down on Roman's lap, turning on his side with great difficulty to grab hold onto one of Roman's legs. He struggled once more to catch his breath; his lungs ached at this point, as well as his throat.

 

“Not well,” Destiny suddenly said, he wasn't sure who she was talking to but he really didn't care. “I'm really out of my depth here...” She picked up the bowl again from the counter and set it on the table beside him. She mouthed something to Roman but he didn't quite catch it. He did notice Roman had nodded to her, if only by the shadow he cast. She sat sideways on the mattress, vaguely facing him with a look of concern. “Peter, do you think you want to talk to your mom?”

 

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, a little surprised that Lynda was on the phone, but of course who else would Destiny be talking to? She handed Peter the phone, and he mumbled a tired hello to her.

 

“Hi baby, I hear you're having a rough time,” she said.

 

“Yeah,” he said, the word getting caught in his throat for a minute. For some reason hearing her voice brought a change within him. Hearing her should have made him feel comfort, but it just made him scared. Sad, scared, and despite the fact that he was there with Destiny, Roman, and he had a whole new network of upirs and werewolves that cared about his safety waiting in the wind, Peter felt alone. As much as he was an adult, old beyond his years it seemed and independent, Peter really wanted his mom back. He started thinking about how she wasn't there for this, how she couldn't be there to help him. He didn't _need_ her help, but the fact was that regardless he didn't have it. And he should, he wanted it. He wanted that kind of relationship with his mother. Weekends at grandma's, fresh baked cookies and bonding and he _knew_ Lynda would be there for it. If she could be.

 

 

But it translated into their situation; how they were running, afraid, in a van, with no true place to call their own lest it attract the attention of that vindictive cunt that was Roman's mother if only for the fact that he crawled from her womb. Peter was afraid, and he wasn't ready. He wasn't ready for this at all. It gripped him so tightly and all at once that he forgot to breathe, and he could only distantly hear her speaking to him in the phone.

 

“I-...” he stalled, his voice breaking as he spoke, even worse when he spoke again. “I don't think I can do this.” His breath hitched as he spoke, broken and marked by tears and dismay. He should have known he couldn't get through this without crying once, but it was the sudden overwhelming dismay and terror that got him. He was ashamed of himself that it happened during the rare moments where he was able to speak to his mother.

 

“Oh Peter...” Destiny said with a sigh and the click of her tongue. She gingerly reached down to stroke his hair, at which point she then gestured for the phone back, which he gave despite mild confusion. He was more in a state of upset at the moment to really care, but she set the phone down next to him and put it on speaker.

 

“You're on speaker, Lynda.” Destiny said, continuing to soothe him by running her hand along his shoulder. Roman had a hold of the hand that was half trapped under Peter, stroking the top of his fingers with his thumb but silent all the while, at least for the moment.

 

“Peter, listen to me. Women since the dawn of time have been having babies, you can get through this.”

 

“I'm not a woman!” he practically wailed, “I'm not equipped for this!”

 

“You heard the doctor, Peter, men can get through this, too. I know it hurts, but you've got to keep fighting.” Destiny chimed in.

 

“If anyone can do it, it's you.” Roman said. “You are so fucking strong, Peter.”

 

“I'm...I'm so tired, and I'm so fucking scared,” Peter whimpered.

 

“What are you scared of, baby?” Lynda asked.

 

“I'm not ready for this, I was never ready for this...everything keeps going wrong. I can't even have this goddamn baby without there being a problem,” As he spoke his voice was broken and breathless. He spoke between sobs and the inability to catch his breath. “What the fuck was I thinking, thinking I could have a kid? I'm living out of a van!”

 

“Why do you think something's going wrong?” Lynda asked, and she was trying hard to be soothing and sympathetic but it didn't help much.

 

“He is having complications,” Destiny said. “The cervix won't open. He's progressing normally in terms of timing but his body is working a lot harder to try to open it, and it's not working. I told him I'd open it myself if I had to. And I will, Peter. It's just a little setback, okay? I'll get her out of you one way or another.”

 

“See? You're going to be alright. This'll be over before you know it!” Lynda said from the phone.

Peter didn't respond verbally, only let out a choked sob and covered half his face with his arm, reaching up to grip the side of Roman's thigh as he did so. He just wanted something human to grab onto, and that was the closest thing.

 

“Peter, listen to me,” Lynda said, to which Peter mumbled a muffled 'okay' in response. “When I was pregnant with you, your father left me the minute he found out. Thank God for your grandfather but I spent half of those nine months hopping couches. But here you are, still alive after nineteen years; I think I did okay. The difference between you and me though, is that you've got someone who loves you. You've got a boy who's head over heels and willing to stick by you. I know it. And you've got Destiny, and maybe even Andreas. It won't be easy, but I made it through and so can you.”

 

“She's right, Peter. I would never let anything happen to you...to us. I'm serious when I say I'd kill for you.”

 

“Jesus, Roman...” Peter mumbled. “You're such a fucking romantic,”

 

“Damn straight I am. You want me to go kill someone now? Just for the hell of it?” Roman asked.

 

“Right now?” Peter asked, though it was with amusement.

 

“Yeah. Shit, maybe I'll just bring them back here alive. That way you can beat the shit out of them instead of me.”

 

Peter, for the moment, was broken by his sadness and laughed at him. Roman reached down to move Peter's arm away from his face long enough to brush his hair away. Swiping his thumb to clear the tears that had run down his face, a gentle laugh rumbling through his chest. He felt the exhale as he was technically laying in front of his stomach. His hand then came to rest where his hand had fallen, to grip the one closest to him instead.

 

It felt so much longer than it had already been, but in reality it hadn't been that long at all. Peter's only anchor to time at the moment had to do with when his contractions came, but perhaps it was best not to trust them as much since they changed. In his assumption it had seemed to be six minutes before he was gripped with pain again. He nearly curled in on himself, if not for the fact that his hand was against his chest where Roman was holding it. He pushed his face into Roman's thigh so that he could muffle the strained, exhausted and agonized expression he let out.

 

“C'mon, Peter. You did so good last time. Keep breathing,” Destiny said, and he tried. He turned his head away from Roman's thigh to get more air, but unfortunately he kept turning. His attempt to ease himself of his own pain lead him to doing the opposite of the contortion he'd done earlier. Destiny was quick to right this, manipulating his hips into a more straight forward position, and he ended up on his back rather than on his side. It wasn't helpful at all; his back already hurt terribly, and now with all the weight on it, it was worse. The minute he felt it descend on him, the whole time with his lower half being ravaged by contractions, he failed in his task to just keep breathing and emitted a choked groan, from which he recovered by taking in a ragged gasp.

 

“I know, I know, I'm sorry,” Destiny said, and he assumed it had to do something with moving him onto his back. If he could sit up right now, he would. But as it was, he felt like an upside-down turtle. He stared up at the ceiling in an attempt to distract himself, and found a small spider crawling across it. He breathed in, exhaled strained breaths, watched the spider. Counted its legs, watched each one as they moved steadily across the plaster. He focused so hard on that fucking spider that he was done before he knew it, but he was distantly aware he had been vocalizing in pain in some way or another.

 

“Four minutes, fifty-five seconds,” Destiny said.

 

“Four minutes?” Peter panted. “I thought it was six.”

 

“You skipped six and went straight to four. There's a chance it will go back to six. Your contractions seem a little uneven... What did you see up there?”

 

“There's a spider...”

 

“Huh...Come on, let me help you sit up,” Destiny said, and both her and Roman helped to bring him into a sitting position.

 

“Why do you keep moving me?” he asked, irritated by having to do that straight on his back like he had been.

 

“Because it's bad for the baby. Not only can you fuck up the way she's positioned, but you're going to fuck up your back like that, too.” She turned her attention back to the discarded phone on the bed and cursed, noticing the call had been dropped. It definitely didn't seem like Lynda to randomly hang up, so he had to assume that was the case. “Do you think you can get up and walk for a while? Just around the kitchen, maybe. It might help move things along. I don't want to have to pry open your cervix if I don't have to.”

 

“I can try,” he said, easing himself towards the edge of the bed. Destiny put a hand around his back, then gestured for Roman to join him as it probably was a good idea for someone to be near him. Standing was more unpleasant than he thought it would be. The shift in position not only made his hips feel more pressure, but he felt the presence of viscous fluid leaking down his legs. Destiny handed him a towel; another clean one, thankfully, and he quickly cleaned himself up and set to doing what Destiny asked. It felt uncomfortable as hell, and he leaned on Roman for support. The pressure on his pelvis made walking feel almost dangerous. By the time the first contraction came while he was standing, having walked around the kitchen island for about five minutes, the pressure was worse. He ended up leaning against the island with his head down and Roman sympathetically rubbing his lower back. He felt like there was a serious danger of him spontaneously giving birth right there, standing up, but Destiny assured him this was not going to happen.

 

Peter did this for an hour, off and on. He'd rest for a few moments and then continue. It's not that he _liked_ walking around, he was just desperate to get things moving, even when Destiny suggested he take it easy, he refused. Even in spite of her early warnings he _did_ end up returning to the bathroom and not dying, but he compromised by allowing Roman to come with him. After about an hour he allowed Destiny to check him once more between contractions, which had consistently become four to five minutes apart at this point. Once more, no change; not one that she could see, anyway. She was growing more and more concerned by the minute but compromised once more, saying that if it didn't happen in another hour she should try to do it herself. She had said that with no amniotic fluid left, this placed a time limit on the ordeal and waiting too much longer could be potentially dangerous.

 

 

At about another hour and a half, he was forced to give into rest and and at least sit on the bed, because he was feeling nearly drained already. Walking was becoming much harder when he could barely catch his breath. They were four minutes more than not, now. He had abandoned their previous method of Roman being behind him to hold him up and instead used the copious amounts of pillows to prop him up to about the same height. They fell a few times and Roman's solution had been to back up Destiny's _other_ couch against the mattress, with the back facing it so that the pillows could prop against it. In the back of his mind he was thankful but in the forefront he was pissed off; it was one of the reasons he didn't want to lean against him. He was too hot and he didn't want to be touched very much. Roman did, however, manage to sit next to him on the bed, barely, but he managed. Thank God for Destiny's intuition of buying such a ridiculously large air mattress.

 

It seemed nothing would quell the immense heat he felt and he had drunk more water than he knew what to do with, and he realized that would come back to bite him in the ass; a stomach full of water in a body that was constantly pushing near that organ did not bode well. Half way through a contraction he began to feel very ill, though he could not voice this himself.

Thank God Destiny noticed.

 

“Roman, get the bowl. The empty one,” she said, gesturing frantically towards the end table next to them. No sooner than Roman had gotten it in front of him did he lurch forward and spill what seemed like half a days worth of water into the bowl. Good God, did it hurt. It always hurt when he threw up, but it hurt so much worse now. It was a harsh and aching, painful strain at the same time the muscles in his abdomen felt like they were starting to catch on fire. Peter could scarcely breathe through contractions as it was, but this stopped him entirely. In the moments when he could catch his breath between vomiting he could barely breathe from the pain. His lungs were constricted, and he was left gasping, taking in what small amounts he could. He felt faint and he found at the moment that Roman touching him was one of the only things still grounding him to reality. Even though he'd said, verbatim, 'Do not fucking touch me' only minutes ago. He'd scarcely been able to ride through the peak without passing out, but as the vomiting stopped, so too did the contraction.

 

He fell back against the pillows, panting and gasping, trying to catch his breath, very nearly crying at this point. Every breath he took seemed to signify this, with the pitch in which he took it. At this point, he decided he was done. He wanted to try to ride this out, he wanted to do this without intervention, for the sake of staying hidden more than anything. He did not want that anymore. He needed _something_ to stop this pain, and he had to resort to desperate measures. While Roman wiped his brow with the wet rag, which had been moved and re-wet a dozen times now, he suddenly reached over to grab him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him towards him.

 

“Roman...” he breathed out, desperation in his tone just by his name alone. “I will suck your dick, right here, in front of God and everyone if you can get Pryce to bring me a fucking epidural. Fuck, I'll suck _his_ dick,” he released him to rest once again on the pillows and swallowed heavily, whimpering in pure frustration and despair at this point. “Please, I don't want to do this anymore. I'm fucking _done_.”

 

“Can we do that...?” Roman asked, looking at Destiny for guidance. She looked at him with pity, sighed and seemed to be in deep thought for a moment.

 

“It's really unlikely. I mean, you'd need an anesthesiologist, I don't think he'd be able to do it himself. And for an anesthesiologist you need to be at the hospital. It's not just like a shot or something. Besides there are other factors, like the bleeding...they might not be comfortable doing one. Not to mention monitoring-.”

 

“If I can convince him to find one, or Doctor Warren or something if she needs to be here for this shit, can we do it?”

 

“I don't know, Roman... You can try, but don't hold your breath.”

 

“I'll try,” Roman said, standing from the bed and starting off to another room. He turned to Peter once more, nervously fumbling at his pocket where his phone was. “If you have to go in for it, what do you want to do?”

“I'll figure that out if it happens,” Peter said, his voice so hoarse by this point he was certain by the end of this he'd lose his voice. He gave a final nervous, hesitant glance at him and then rushed off.

 

 

 

Roman wanted him out of pain as much as Peter did. It scared the shit out of him, honestly. He felt like he still couldn't do anything. He helped how he could but Peter seemed to very quickly be running out of patience for him. Was it his fault? Was he just not doing a good enough job? He was sure that wasn't the case but he couldn't help but feel guilt. It broke his heart to watch him go through that, not being able to do anything. He wasn't sure what he'd do if Pryce needed him to come in, though. He didn't want Peter in any way close to that place at the moment. He knew there was some kind of leak. He wasn't sure that bringing a random anesthesiologist was good either but he had to try _something_. He paced the room nervously as he dialed his number, waiting for him to answer. Finally, he did.

 

“Hello?” he asked, to which Roman responded with no greeting, but a command.

 

“Call me back on a payphone. Immediately,” with that, he hung up. He wasn't sure where the leak was coming from, or if it had anything to do with Pryce's phone. He was going to be safe. It took some time for Pryce to call him back, while he paced all the while. He knew that there were no close payphones but he still felt aggravated. When his phone wrung he answered immediately.

 

“What is this about, Roman?”

 

“You have a leak, I'm not risking anything.”

 

“Are you sure? I thought I was taking precautions, but I suppose it has been very busy here lately-”

 

“Shut up, listen. This isn't what I fucking called about.”

 

“Okay...”

 

“ _Hypothetically_ , if I needed you to travel a short distance with an anesthesiologist to administer an epidural, could you do it?”

 

“Hypothetically?” Pryce asked, a sense of disbelief in his tone. “Roman, you can't possibly think I'm that stupid.”

 

“Can you do it?!” he asked once more.

 

“No. I can't.” Pryce responded, a cool and collected tone that contrasted how Roman was feeling right now.

 

“Could you _period_?” he asked desperately.

 

“If you are talking about Peter, which I'm sure you are, it's not possible. If you remember, unlike a normal human woman, he has two intertwined nervous systems. They are so tightly bound together it's impossible to tell what part of him it will effect. It's dangerous not only for him but for the wolf half of him. Not to mention it needs to be administered through an I.V system, the lack of proper monitoring equipment--quite frankly, what you're doing Roman, is already very unsafe and I can't say I approve.”

 

“What the fuck am I paying you for, Pryce?” Roman asked, frustrated. He knew in the back of his mind that Pryce's logic was sound but that made him no less angry. “I don't pay you to sit around and play fucking mad scientist for the fun of it. God forbid I don't let you in on this so you can jerk off to the thought of what a scientific breakthrough it is when you're bored. It's not safe, Pryce You know that. You know what kind of person she is-,”

 

“I'm sorry, but you're asking me to do something that I cannot physically perform.”

 

“Can't you just figure something out?! Isn't there something else you can do?”

 

“I can't say for certain I feel comfortable giving him much of any pain medication at all without proper monitoring, because of the way his body is built. If you cannot bring him in, I can't help you. There is already a lot that can go wrong, and there is even more that can go wrong with introducing narcotics.” Pryce fell silent, then sighed. “Roman, I truly do hope that if something goes wrong you'll give up your pride and bring him here before this kills him.”

 

“Fuck you,” Roman spat. “Don't fucking talk to me like I'm an idiot. Thanks for nothing,” he said, and hung up the phone with irritation. He let out a long exhale in an attempt to calm his nerves, but nothing seemed to work. He was irritated nonetheless. He was forced to march in there and explain to him that he could do nothing to help.

 

“Well?” Destiny asked as he entered.

 

“He says no, not even if he comes in. Something about there being two fucking nervous systems, I don't know. It's fucking bullshit. Then he gave me shit about monitoring. He acts like he fucking cares but I know that son of a bitch just wants to get in here and watch so he can have the pleasure of witnessing something scientifically impossible,” Roman said, pacing towards the bed, preparing to sit down but stopping short, just so he could continue his rant. “I'm sure he has a point but I don't trust the place right now. If it was just me, I wouldn't give a shit, but it's not.”

 

“He has a point; both of you do,” Destiny said sadly. “I do this kind of thing when high-risk deliveries aren't in the cards, and if it happens I send them to the hospital. And this is...certainly high risk. But Olivia...”

 

“There's a leak there, I don't trust it. I don't trust _anyone_ here but you. Who knows how this shit gets back to her. For all I know she could have someone on the inside to come fuck us up in minutes.”

 

“How do you know there's a leak?”

 

“It's...” Roman sighed, finally sitting down on the bed. “Forget about it.” He turned to Peter, who looked none to happy. “What do you want, Peter?”

 

“To rip your fucking balls off,” he said, breathlessly and exhausted. “And to stay here. I can't stand being in that place, with all those fucking doctors. I don't like being looked at. This wolf is losing its shit; it's already stressed. I'm not going to give it another chance to take over by basically pinning it into a corner.”

 

Roman, in response, crossed his legs but did so unconsciously. He hadn't considered the wolf.

 

 

To Roman's defense, Peter had mentioned it to no one. He didn't want to talk about it. He felt like thinking about it would probably give it more power, but even with the intention of ignoring it he couldn't deny that leaving would make this a lot worse to trying to hold back his other half.

 

“Why didn't you mention this?” Destiny asked.

 

“Because I don't want to fucking think about it. I don't want to give it power.”

 

“This is just bad all around...in every possible way,” Destiny said with a sigh. “You've gotten yourself into a lot of trouble in the past but this one really takes the cake. I mean this is already rare as it is, I doubt anyone's ever heard of a male werewolf who decided to do something fucking stupid and let his wolf out of the cage.”

“I did what I had to do, Destiny.”

 

“It didn't even do you any-Never mind, it's not worth arguing about right now.”

 

“No, there's not,” he huffed. He was not on the mood, especially since he was hit directly with another contraction moments later. This kind of thing carried on until it had hit the two hour mark, and Destiny decided that if he hadn't progressed by this point she was going to have to take action.

 

He scooted down some, with the pillow between his hips once more, as Destiny pulled on her gloves and gave him a worried glance. She entered him once more, as she'd done each time prior, and Peter felt the pain that radiated through his belly when she reached the cervix. He did not look at her, he only kept his eye trained on the ceiling. The sigh she let out did not bode well for him, he assumed.

 

“I'm sorry Peter...normally I'd let this go a little longer, try to get you up and walking some more but ...I'm going to have to do this. It's already been almost four days now.”

 

“Okay,” he said as he breathed out. “Do it.”

 

“You're still mostly at four, I'm going to try to take it to six.”

 

“That's all?” he asked.

 

“That's all you can probably handle at once. Then I'm just going to have to _hope_ it doesn't need to happen again. Roman, he's probably going to need you for this.”

 

“What do you need me to do?”

 

“Just...” she sighed, “I don't know. Hold his hand until I'm done.”

 

Almost hesitantly, Roman reached over to grab his hand once more. It wasn't all that much of a reach, as they were fairly close. He let out a long exhale in preparation, nervously gripping Roman's hand; if Destiny was right, this wasn't going to feel good at all. Still with her fingers in him; two, at this point he had to imagine, she spoke to him for a moment to prepare him.

 

“Okay. I'm going to start now. Deep breath, okay?” she said. Peter only nodded, taking in a breath, and then she pushed into him further. It was like an electric jolt of radiating pain, only growing worse the further and harder she pushed. Peter instinctually tried to pull his hips away, to which she admonished him gently and paused only for a second.

“Stay still honey, you can't pull away from me.”

 

It was a fight not to move, and he struggled to breathe, taking in high pitched gasps and emitting strangled exhales, gripping hard once more at Roman's hand.

 

“Try to bear down a little,” she said, and Peter wasn't sure just what she meant with all the pain clouding his brain but he realized she was asking him to push against her fingers. He did; it was the first time he'd actually done any pushing from that area and he realized that somewhere deep in his psyche, how weird it seemed, given that it was a place that shouldn't exist. His body seemed to know how to use it and what to do, though.

 

“Good,” she said, sounding almost strained herself. “Just keep breathing. You're doing so good.”

 

Amidst feeling like he was being torn apart, he was pretty sure he was also contracting but the pain blended together to the point that he honestly couldn't tell. He legitimately screamed after some point; a shattering, agonized sound of pain that he had to fight to catch his breath through.

 

“I know, I know...I'm sorry. I'm almost done,” she grunted with the effort of whatever it seemed she was doing, and she spoke strained with that same effort, “It's not wanting to give very easy.”

 

She suddenly pulled her hand back and pulled off her gloves, quickly tossing them back into the trash can. She must go through so many gloves...It wasn't Peter's main concern at the moment though as he was desperately trying to sink into the pillows and away from his own pain. She did stop at the tail end of a contraction so at least he didn't have to deal with that.

 

“This is...really not a good situation, Peter...” she said with a sigh.

 

“I'm sorry,” Peter responded, breathless and pitched. His breath hitched as he cried for the second time that day, once again filled with despair. “I shouldn't have done this...Fuck, this is going to kill me, isn't it?”

 

“No, no, it's not,” she said in that tone that people use when trying to stop someone from crying. “I mean, I hope it's not. You're just having a lot of trouble. And I don't...I don't really have a monitor, so I don't exactly know what's going to happen when she's born...”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“I mean that she might be in distress. I don't have a monitor to see that. Usually when a baby is in distress it calls for a c-section, which you can't have. So even if I did have a monitor...I don't think there's anything I could do. Or Pryce, for that matter. We're fucked either way.”

“So she could be dying in there and we don't even know it?” Roman asked, hopelessness clear in his tone.

 

“I...” Destiny stopped herself, let out a hum of frustration and considered her words. “I don't know. I just have to hope...She's been so strong this entire time. She's been kicking Peter's ass from the inside. She's been perfect, albeit slightly small, in all the scans...She should pull through. What we could do is try to get some equipment from Pryce. Monitor her heart rate...but even if it goes sideways, all we'll have is conformation beforehand. What do you want to do, Peter?”

 

“I don't want the monitor,” Peter said, trying to stop his incessant sobbing. He took in a shaking breath and then swallowed, trying to compose himself enough to speak. “If something happens and I _know_ I...I can't. If she dies, and I know she's dead, I can't give birth to a dead baby. I'd rather hope and not know.”

 

“Are you sure that's what you want?” Destiny asked.

 

“Yes. That's what I want.”

 

 

The day progressed just as miserably as it had, and Peter was worried the entire time now that she was going to die inside of him. He almost reconsidered bringing the monitor, thinking several times about changing his mind and asking for it, but he didn't. The thought that it might be worse if he knew always stopped him. But it was even worse how _long_ it dragged on. He wanted it over, he was done with this shit. He almost wished Destiny would just rip him open inside and speed the process up so he could finish, even though her going from four to six had been incredibly painful. She no longer wanted to try to manually open him up because after that point, even though he seemed to be stuck at four minutes for hours, it started doing its job and opening _very_ slowly on its own. She was afraid that any manipulation from her point might cause it to stop again.

 

Peter had no idea how long he was stuck at four minutes; he knew it was hours. It felt like days. He lost track of time, of everything. He was becoming almost delirious and had, at some point, sort of checked out of everything. All he knew was pain. He thought that maybe it made it so much worse that this wasn't over quickly. It just kept _coming_ , over and over again, never ending, dragging on and wearing him down steadily throughout the day. He did remember Roman expressing concern for his state and Destiny telling him that he would likely be kicked into action at the point he actively needed to participate in. Laying there dying, so it felt like, was not very active participation.

 

He remembered watching the shadows move across the living room, and then darken. It was dark outside, he had no idea what time it was. The natural light of the warm, reddish colored hues of the outdoors streaming through her curtains had given way to a dull incandescence. The brightest light in the room had been the heavy duty flashlight that Destiny had on hand to shine between his legs when she needed to see, which wasn't often because she did most of it by feel alone. At some point he knew more things had been brought in. More pillows, more towels, the very same bassinet that Nadia had slept in the last time they were here. It sat near them, at the edge of the couch Roman had pushed against the top of the bed. He didn't know when they got there, he didn't know when Destiny left to get them, they just were there.

 

It was dark by the time he hit three minutes. Three minutes seemed to last forever. The pain was worse; unrelenting, scarring and tearing apart his throat from how much he screamed. Three was a blessing, though. Three was nothing compared to two. After hours of three, he hit two with such an unrelenting agony that he wished he were dead. The sky outside was nearly pitch black at this point, from what he could see beyond the curtains. He remembered this dully as Destiny put, at this point, what felt like her entire hand into his crotch, and let out a nervous breath as she did so.

 

“If you could just reach in there and fucking rip her out-,” Peter said, at this point not sure when he even had a free moment. He sometimes found his voice during contractions and it was either to curse at the world in general or actually speak.

 

“You're nine centimeters,” Destiny told him. “You're so close. Any minute, now.”

 

At this realization he let out a pained sob. He cried because it was close, but it almost seemed too far away. Like dangling relief in front of him, taunting him. He cried because he knew what kind of pain he'd felt from the speculum, and knew this would hurt so much worse. He cried because he wasn't sure what he'd be giving birth to; a live baby, or a dead one. And he cried because he wanted his mother. He was an adult but _God_ he wanted her with him.

 

“What time is it?” he croaked out.

 

“It's three in the morning,”Destiny replied, and he was shocked to know that much time had passed. He hadn't slept...Not since around that same time this morning. But he realized now he a sense of clarity that was creeping up on him. Like an adrenaline shot that cleared his mind and let him think a little easier, even with the pain. Destiny had been right; his body had kicked back into action and he could think easier now with the impending delivery.

 

“Can you call Lynda?” he asked. She had texted them at some point later to say that the call had, indeed, been dropped but her minutes were running critically low and she needed to save them for later if such an event like this happened.

“Yeah, I can call her. Do you want to just talk to her or do you want to see her?”

 

“The...” he stalled, trying to think of how to respond because his brain felt fried. “The last one.”

 

“Okay,” Destiny said, quickly grabbing one of the boxes from under the table. She set it on the clearest part of the table and then flipping out the stand on the back of the case so that it would be able to sit upright. She stalled for a moment while he was hit with a hard contraction, though he wasn't sure if it was truly and harder than the last one. It just hurt, he know that. An agonizing, horrible pain that left him screaming immediately after he'd been able to get it out past the fact that it took his breath away immediately. It felt like he was on fire, like someone had lit a match and thrown it down into gasoline on his insides, all while someone was steadily trying to pull his guts out through his crotch. A pull that pulled on everything from his spine to his lower pelvic bone, and all he could do was cry out in pain. It was some low, growling howl that came from so deep within him he was almost certain part of it was the howl of the animal sharing a space in his brain. Roman had hold of his hand, gripping it tightly to try to distract him but it didn't help. It only pissed him off more, and what ever he said next just made it worse.

 

“You're almost done,” he said, and his voice shook with nervousness as he spoke. “You just have to get past this one, and another...one at a time.”

 

“There isn't just one when it's all fucking strung together!” he shouted, knowing somewhere that Roman meant well but he'd like to kill him about now. “Fucking idiot, your mother should've smothered you! You'll be lucky if I don't do it!”

 

“Jesus Christ, Peter!” Destiny said. Roman was silent, clearly taken aback. “He doesn't mean it, Roman...”

 

“I do mean it!” he could barely breathe as he spoke, frantic and pained, marred by expression of agony but the message was clear. “I swear to God if I don't fucking kill you I'm cutting your balls off while you sleep!”

 

“Fine,” Roman said suddenly. It was bitter, but there was a purpose of hope behind it. “You want to kill me? How do you want to kill me?”

 

“Painfully,” Peter growled out.

 

“Come on, you can do better than that!” Roman said.

 

“Fuck you!” he ground out, “The next time I fucking turn I'm coming for you balls first and eating my way up!”

 

“Great, I look forward to it. But I still think you can do better.”

 

Peter spend the next sixty seconds shouting obscenities at him and trying to detail all the ways he was going to creatively remove his testicles, until the pain passed. It passed faster than he'd realized. Panting now, gasping to take in the breath he'd lost he yelled at Roman once more but not any threats on how much he was going to kill him.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

“Did you focus on the pain or how much you wanted to kill me?” Roman asked.

 

“I...fuck, okay.” he let out a choked groan as he continued trying to catch his breath, though either way it was frantic and labored. “Okay, you're right.”

 

“I think that's the most creative way I've seen someone coach before...” Destiny said, finally dialing Lynda. “Good job. You think you can keep it up?”

 

“I guess as long as he wants to kill me I can,” Roman said with a shrug. Peter laughed for a brief moment and then regained his unpleasant disposition until Lynda finally answered. She gave a bit of a brief and startled hello before Destiny explained the situation to her.

 

“Hey, uh..we're really close, and Peter asked me to call you. I think he wants you to be here for this So I'm going to set this phone down so you can talk to him, okay? But fair warning, he's really aggressive...”

 

“I don't blame him,” Lynda said, and Destiny re-positioned the phone so that it was facing him, stacked on the boxes in his direction.

 

“Oh baby, you look so tired,” Lynda said.

 

“I...yeah, I'm sorry, I..I know it's late or some shit, I just didn't want to be alone.” he panted. “I mean I'm not alone but...” he made some vague gesture and then let his hands fall back against the pillows.

 

“It's okay, it's not that late.” she said reassuringly.

 

“I'm gonna say some really bad shit,” he warned her. “I'm sorry.”

 

“No worries. Is that why Roman looks like he's about to pass out?”

 

“I get barely any sleep,” Roman clarified. “But he also just told me he wanted to take a wine cork remover to my crotch.”

 

“You know he doesn't mean that, right?” Lynda asked.

 

“Yeah, but I think it helps if I let him threaten me...The images aren't pleasant, though.”

 

“I'm sorry, Roman,” Peter mumbled between breaths. “I don't want to smother you. Not yet.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Five seconds though? Probably.”

 

 

 

It was more like ten seconds, and it came with that horrible burning, pulling and squeezing pain he'd come to recognize. He did yell at Roman, but this time it was in a language he didn't understand. Destiny merely looked at Roman with both pity and shock, from what he could see. But forty seconds in, nearing the peak, he felt that pressure in his pelvis grow so intense that he wasn't sure he would have a pelvis in the next five seconds. There was so much pressure that it stopped him from being able to communicate what exactly was happening. He felt so tense inside it stopped him from speaking. He just knew he felt a sudden shift, and then the pain spread and migrated downwards. A sort of horrible stretching, burning pain that made him let out a wavered, wounded noise; high pitched and desperate for relief that he wasn't getting. He heard the click of the flashlight and saw its light shine from between his legs, like it was bringing a vision to how much he felt like his crotch was on fire. His body suddenly reacted on its own and he felt his muscles bearing down, and he let out some pathetic strangled noise as they did so.

 

 

The pain did not diminish after his contraction ended; he was only acutely aware of how much pain he was in between his legs. There was so much _mass_ , so much pressure and burning, he had no idea how this would ever work. Though he did not cry technically, the sound he made was a sob of pain on the tail ends of frantic, labored breaths. He literally felt like he was about to snap in half at the hips.

 

“Peter,” Destiny said, almost sounding winded herself. “You're so close. I can't see her yet but I know she's coming.”

 

“I can fucking tell!” he shouted, “How do you know? If you can't see her?”

 

“Do you really want to know...?” Destiny asked.

 

“I don't give a shit,” Peter attempted to say, though it felt so strained he wasn't sure he did so legibly. He could feel it in his lungs, the clench around the words, holding them back.

 

“The...opening down here, it's usually closed more or less? It's not anymore. That means she's descending into the pelvis. The birth canal is a lot longer, though, so she's still..kind of up there.”

 

He knew she was there regardless, and he knew it felt horrible. He wanted to end this right now but he felt no actual urge to push at the moment. He knew that would only exhaust his energy; his body knew what to do, he'd felt it moments ago when it had happened on its own but the next time he knew he would be able to put more force behind it. At this point he almost was begging for a contraction so that he could get this over with. He got his wish, and then regretted it moments later. Destiny, of course, knew it the moment it happened because he was not exactly subtle about how it made him feel, and instructed him.

 

“Try to pull your leg up a little and push, okay?” she said. It was a bit awkward to do; he wasn't exactly laying down, he was more half sitting up due to the pillows. He pulled his legs to either side of his abdomen and gave into his body's insistence to push again. He was fairly silent at this point, because he didn't think he could actually scream. He was putting too much energy and muscle control into bearing down.

 

“You're doing so good, sweetie,” Lynda said, and he was sure she'd said something before that too but he couldn't remember it. He was so focused at the moment that he didn't quite feel the pain as much. It was a completely separate need and focus, though it did hurt. It was when the urge wore off that he felt the pain once more. He shook with it; the pain, the effort, as he let out low strangled whimpers.

 

“Where is she?” he asked, in barely a whisper as his voice was refusing to cooperate.

 

“A little closer,” Destiny assured. “Just hang in there, you're almost done.”

 

The contractions at this point were relentless. They knew, as did he, that he was so close to finished and this needed to happen _now_. They barely gave him time to catch his breath. He pushed hard once more and noted that the closer she got, the more it hurt. It got to a point where things seem to get stuck, even though he kept pushing. As he got to the peak of his contraction he felt the need to push as hard as he could, so hard that he was sure he was about to pop a blood vessel in his eyeballs. It was like pushing against a wall but there was a sudden give, and it was one he regretted. He felt something snap inside of him, quite literally. A snap and a gush of warmth but he had no idea where it was coming from. Only that the pain radiated so intensely through his entire groin that at first he was afraid he'd actually broken his pelvis, and he did scream then. And then he realized how much his dick hurt, and then that he wasn't _entirely_ sure it was still there. The only thing he could think to say when he was able to speak was through desperate sobs of agony, and he _did_ cry.

 

“She ripped my fucking dick off!” he howled. “How am I gonna live without a dick?!”

 

“Peter, I promise it's still there!” Destiny assured him, but he didn't feel quite confident because her voice betrayed her and he heard the fear in it.

 

“Then why do you sound like that?! What the fuck happened?!”

 

“I..I don't know, something _broke_ in you and there's...fuck, there's a lot of blood. You're okay though, Peter. You're lucid.”

 

“Then why does it feel like my dick is falling off?” he whimpered.

 

“I think she might have popped one of the ligaments or ripped up the inside; I don't know, Peter, my specialty isn't in penises! It's still there, though, I promise. It's still completely attached on the outside.”

 

“There is no fucking way she's getting through there,” he sobbed.

 

“She'll come out, Peter. I'll make sure of it.”

 

“What if she rips the whole thing off?” he asked, terrified.

 

“Then I'll fucking sew it back on, Peter, but I don't think that's going to happen. You're going to get through this just fine though. You're going to be okay, do you understand me?”

 

“I'm not fucking stupid, I understand you but I don't trust it,”

 

No sooner had he said this than the next one came, and he dreaded it with the knowledge of what it would bring with it. He knew he was going to need to keep pushing but he wasn't sure he could. He tried, but it sent such a horrible flaring, stabbing and tearing pain through him as she passed through further that he had to stop. He could barely breathe, and when he did it was uneven and he was nearly hyperventilating.

 

“I can't!” Peter shouted, “She won't fit, Destiny, there's no fucking way, it hurts too much!” he hadn't actually stopped crying, but he cried much harder at this point. Quite literally from pain. Most of it had earlier been emotion but this hurt so bad that it brought him to tears.

 

“Okay, okay,” Destiny said, sighing but agreeing. “Rest for a second, but you've _got_ to keep pushing through this, Peter. You can, I promise.”

 

“Please,” Roman said form beside him. He held his hand so tight, now with both hands, pulling it towards him in some kind of silent plea. “Peter, you're so fucking close. You gotta keep going. For her, if nothing else.”

 

“You can do it, honey,” Lynda said. “C'mon baby, I know you've got this in you. Roman's right, you're so close. Then she'll be out and all this pain will stop.”

 

Peter truly wanted to push, but he felt like he was unable to with the fear of pain. His body did on its own, very lightly, he felt his own muscles working without his control but it wasn't enough to actually do much. Still, he felt her ease through, past that broken and mangled mess of his insides and it was agonizing even still.

 

“I can feel it all the way up to my fucking lungs,” Peter breathed out. “She's gonna rip me in half, I fucking know it.”

 

“I know it really feels like she might, but she's not that big,” Destiny said, and he very vaguely felt her dab around his lower half with something and then toss it away. She did so a second later , then let out a noise of frustration. “You're not feeling faint, are you?”

 

“No, I don't know...why?” he asked frantically.

 

“You're, um...when you push, you bleed from pretty much everywhere. Whatever tore it's..bleeding into your penis, and it's squirting all over me.”

 

“Oh God,” Peter wailed. “I'm going to die here.”

 

“You're not dying, this is just a little hurdle. You're okay, as long as you're not feeling faint.”

 

The next one came as relentlessly as the last, and the urge came back as strong as ever. He let out a low whine and then silenced while he tried to push again. It was only for a moment, because the pain returned. He screamed and cursed loudly, but he kept trying.

 

“Keep pushing, honey. I know it hurts, but push through it.”

 

“I'm trying!” he practically shrieked, but he did feel her move down. It was like each part of her body was just scraping relentlessly along whatever had snapped within him. Each millimeter she slid forward made him feel like he was being ripped in half even more. At the tail end of it, he let out a scream so loud that he thought he might've ruptured Roman's eardrum but the fucker deserved it. Once more he was shaking as he rested, struggling so hard to take air into his lungs that he was truly surprised this wasn't what made him pass out.

 

“You're almost done,” Destiny said. “Just a few more good pushes and she should be out. Just hold on,” as she spoke he felt what felt like paper towel against his skin again, which once more was thrown into the trash.

 

“I feel like I'm fucking dying,” Peter whimpered. “Just sitting there this hurts so fucking much.”

 

“It'll be worth it, Peter. Do you want to feel her?”

 

“What?” Peter asked, voice shaking.

 

“Give me your hand,” she said. With the one hand not currently with Roman, who's own hands were shaking hard now, he reached down to where she could grab his hand. She pulled it down and then pushed it against something that was definitely _not_ part of him. It was wet, fuzzy and warm.

 

“Is that her?” he asked, feeling taken aback and quite frankly moved.

 

“Yeah, she's right here, Peter.”

 

“Oh God, she has so much hair...” was the only thing he could think to say.

 

“Like you. It's really dark. You want to keep fighting for her, right?”

 

“Yes,” he said, swallowing thickly and emitting a choked sob.

 

“Good. Keep fighting for her.”

 

Peter knew it wouldn't help to keep his hand down there so he moved it back up to the pillow nest, and felt his stomach churn to see the sheer amount of blood and slime all over his fingers. He knew when she came out she was going to be a mess. He didn't have much time to think about that though before he was hurled into another contraction. He came in it with the peace of mind that this was probably the end, and he pushed hard. It felt like he was ripping in half again; he felt her begin to exit, but just as she did it seemed that it was all for naught as she was pulled back in. It was incredibly frustrating, as the thing happened each time he pushed. The same stretching, burning, tearing sensation. The contraction ended before he could get her out, and he groaned in frustration.

 

“I'm sorry,” Destiny said. “This can happen sometimes.”

“I told you that she couldn't get through there!”

 

“She can get through, Peter, trust me. Her head was about half way through.”

 

“Then why is she still in there?”

 

“I've dealt with this a ton of times, it's usually the next few pushes and she'll be out. I promise.”

 

And so the next one came, and he ended up pushing hard enough that his entire body shook with the effort, and yet nothing came of it. Then a third, a fourth, a fifth time. Around this point Destiny didn't seem quite as confident. When this happened for give or take twenty minutes, with this completely unyielding birth, Peter was just about ready to lay down and die. He had a headache at this point from pushing so hard. At forty minutes, Destiny finally conceded that she needed to change tactics.

 

“I'm going to have to move you, and it's really going to suck but you need to be flat on your back, and pull your legs up as high as you can. Up towards your chest. Roman, I'm going to need you down here.”

 

“What?” Roman asked, and he sounded terrified.

 

“This isn't up for negotiation! Come on the other side of me, now!” Roman quickly stood and Peter felt like he was lost in an ocean, alone and dying on a door somewhere because he'd neglected to pull up some bitch named Jack. He had no one to hold onto, he felt so lost. Roman did stand on the other side, close to the edge of the bed. Thank God he was long enough to reach with his fucking freakishly long spider limbs. He eased himself onto his back soon after, and he hated it, but he did it. He pulled his legs up as far as they would go and it hurt his hips but he did it anyway.

 

“Oh Jesus fuck,” Roman breathed out.

 

“Shut up, Roman.” Destiny said. “Give me your hand, put it here and push down when he pushes.” she said, and he felt Roman's hand somewhere as low on his pelvic bone as he could be without actually pressing on the bone itself.

 

“Destiny...” Lynda said from the phone. “Tell me straight, you know the story...Is this what happened with me?” she sounded worried.

 

“Shoulder dystocia?” Destiny asked. “Yes...Her shoulder is caught under the pubic bone. I'm going to try to get her out before I have to do what..they had to do with Peter.”

 

“What did they do with me?” Peter said, feeling it much harder to breathe and speak on his back.

 

“Do you really want to know?” Lynda asked.

 

“Yes,” Peter responded, sounding desperate.

 

“They had to break your collar bone to get you out.”

 

“Oh God, Destiny please don't let that happen.”

 

“I'm trying, honey.” Destiny said.

 

He interrupted her with a broken wail with his next contraction, and with his arms under his knees he gripped his own thighs for comfort, digging his nails in to the point where he was sure he bled but it barely compared to the pain of what he felt down south. He pushed once more, hard as he could, and felt Roman push down. Then he heard him let out some terrified sounding noise, but Destiny hushed him.

 

“I think it's working,” Destiny said. “Come on honey, keep pushing. You're almost there.” It still felt like she wasn't getting far, but at the point when he felt like his crotch was ripping in half he didn't feel her pull back in this time. He was feeling tired and he faltered for a moment until Destiny spoke to him.

 

“Come on Peter, just one more. One more big push, you can do it.”

 

Though Peter felt like he barely had the energy he did, with the hope and knowledge that this would stop. He did, praying and hoping that when she finally came out she would be alive and well. It was the one last thought he had, breath caught in his throat, strained and proof of his effort, before he suddenly felt a strange rush. It was like that final push and she'd just shot out of him like a cannon. It took him a moment to even realize what happened; he knew he still hurt, though. There was a deep throbbing pain still in his groin, but that was it. But it was silent, and he willed and prayed to hear _something_ , his heart nearly still in his chest. He found he could no longer hold his legs up and resolved to scoot up slightly and put them down as he waited. But finally, he heard this strangled, squawking noise that sounded like the cross between a bird and a stepped on squeaky toy. It sounded ridiculous but he let out a sigh of relief seconds after he heard it.

 

“Let me have her,” Peter demanded, suddenly feeling a possessive _need_ to be able to hold his child.

 

“Uhh...” Destiny said, somewhat nervously.

“Is she okay?” Peter asked.

 

“She's perfect,” Roman responded tearfully.

 

“She's fine, she's just...You might want me to dry her off first.”

 

“I don't care!” Peter protested, “Give her to me, please.”

 

Destiny did, albeit hesitantly, hand him this squirming, squalling thing covered in blood, slime and some bizarre white substance. Roman abandoned his post and came to sit next to him, as close as he possibly could, to the point where Peter was more leaning against him than anything. She was so small, resting against his chest, squirming and curled up on herself. Small enough that his hand dwarfed her back, and he wondered how something so small could hurt so badly? But she was so messy, covered in blood, getting him covered in blood, but for right now he couldn't care. He felt so blissfully at peace in this moment, and of course he did cry. His voice broke as he tried to think of something to say, but ended up with, “She's so small...”

 

“Oh Peter, I'm so proud of you,” Lynda said. He could hear the emotion in her voice. “Can I see her?”

 

“Here, Roman,” Destiny said, handing him the phone. He held it towards the two of them; him and Nikki, so that she could see.

 

“Oh God, that's my grandbaby,” she said, voice breaking. “Oh Peter, she's so beautiful. You did so good. What's her name?”

 

“Nikki,” he said, sniffling slightly, trying to fight back tears but he felt so moved. Like all the pain had been worth it. Like if he had to do it again, if he had to go back and choose to stop this from happening, he'd probably let it happen. She was this dark haired, red faced thing. He actually didn't see much of her face as it was turned against his chest, only parts of her, but she was beautiful and he knew that. He'd never felt so connected and close to something in his life, aside from the wolf, but that was different. “Nicole.”

 

“After Nicolae?” she asked.

 

“Yeah. We thought it fit.”

 

“I'm going to give you some time with her. My phone is about to die. You call me if you need anything, okay? Have Destiny give you my number.”

 

“Okay,” he responded, though it was distracted. She smiled on the screen and wiped her eyes. “Thank you for letting me be here for this.”

 

They exchanged brief goodbyes, pleasantries, familial 'I love you's, and Lynda finally hung up. The minute Roman gave Destiny back her phone he broke down. Arms around his shoulders, he buried his nose in his hair and kissed him there, crying almost as much Nikki had been, though she was somewhat calm now.

 

“I love you so much, baby...” Roman said. “Thank you. Thank you...” he muttered.

 

“I love you too,” Peter responded, not quite as tearfully as Roman but it was getting there.

 

“Do you want to cut the cord, Roman?” Destiny asked, and before he knew it she was holding a pair of surgical scissors, from the jar she'd kept sealed on the table, as well as a clamp.

 

“Is that okay?” Roman asked, looking towards Peter for conformation who only nodded.

 

When Destiny stood to round the table next to him, he noticed what a state she was in. There was blood all the way up her arms, sprayed all over her shirt all the way up to the neckline. He'd nearly forgotten about the throbbing pain in his groin until he saw her shirt. She leaned over, positioned herself on the edge of the bed and handed Roman the scissors.

 

“I need to take her for a minute, Peter. I promise I'll give her right back.”

 

Hesitantly, he handed Nikki to her and she positioned her onto her back, clamping the cord while she squirmed and fussed.

 

“Go ahead,” Destiny said. Roman's hands were still shaking badly, but he positioned the blade around the cord and snipped it with little to no trouble. It fell slack against him, blood spilling out onto the gown from the now limp cord. Destiny took her for a moment and Peter let his eyes rest, if only for just a second. It seemed to be longer than a second because by the time he opened them again she was clean and swaddled, and placed back in his arms, though this time she was on her back. She'd put a hat on her, God knows where she got it but he figured she just had those things for these cases.

 

She was chubby faced, with a little circular mouth and lips that certainly took after Roman. Still quite pink, even clean, with an elongated head that he was sure would settle after some time. Tiny button nose. In all honesty she reminded him a bit of an old lady, but he still felt completely endeared to her nonetheless. She made some sort of gurgling noise and looked up at him, or at least in his direction. Her eyes were, at the moment, a very dark blue, but he was uncertain what they'd change into as she aged. But he realized that he was not the only parent to this child, as much as he wished to never let her go, and he turned to Roman. Even if he was a little annoyed that Roman had used his phone to take a picture of them, looking as horrible as he did at the moment.

 

“Do you want to hold her?” he asked, somewhat weakly. Roman nodded, and Peter handed her off to him. His hands still shook, but he settled soon enough. He dwarfed her even more than Peter did.

 

“What did you see?” Peter asked, swallowing as a pain welled up in his throat; it burned, and it was raw from use. “When she was born, you were both so quiet. What was it?”

 

“She had a caul,” Roman said almost sadly. “Not on her whole head, just her eyes...She's upir.”

 

“Are you surprised?”

 

“No...I mean of course I'm not surprised, but I hoped, you know...”

 

“Is that how upirs are born?” Destiny asked.

 

“I'd assume so...Olivia always made some big fuckin' deal about it, clearly she only wanted other upirs. She should be fuckin' happy,” Roman said bitterly.

 

Peter shifted lightly, pulling himself up a little higher and leaning against the pillows that were still piled up. He felt disgusting. Everything was wet, slimy, sticky. He hated it. It suddenly begged a question that Peter didn't want to know the answer to, but he asked anyway. His mind still felt half fried.

 

“So is it like...a rumor, that people shit themselves during birth?”

 

“No, Peter...” Destiny said, though she let out a slight laugh. “Are you asking if you did?”

 

“Um...yeah,” he said, and if he wasn't already flushed from exertion he was sure he'd be blushing.

 

“Yes. Don't worry about it. It's nothing I haven't seen before.”

 

“God,” Peter said, hiding his face in the back of his wrist, since it was the one thing that wasn't wet at the moment. “I didn't even notice...”

 

“Most people don't. And most people don't ask. You wouldn't even know if you hadn't asked.”

 

“I guess that one's on me.”

A few good minutes had passed, give or take ten, as they sat there and Destiny waited for the afterbirth. Roman was still holding Nikki and all Peter felt like he could do was tiredly and fondly look at the two of them, until he felt a stirring pain in his gut. He winced and straightened up a bit, to fluff the pillows under him at least before he fell against them.

 

“Alright, you ready to push again?” Destiny asked. “It's nothing like the first time, don't worry.”

 

“Yeah,” he said, a little strained. He was contracting again but it felt like a breeze compared to what he'd been through.

 

“I think maybe it's better to put Nikki down for a minute while you get it out, considering it's a little more labor intensive...”

 

They both agreed, and Roman passed Nikki to Destiny who delicately placed her in the bassinet. Peter was worried at first about her rolling over and suffocating but she assured him it came with an insert for newer babies, which she'd taken the liberty of putting in, so it was unlikely.

 

 

Passing the afterbirth was incredibly unusual, because he wasn't actually passing the afterbirth. He could feel what almost felt like little tiny electric shocks all over his insides, along his abdomen and almost up into his chest. It was separating; detaching its spindly, blood sucking tentacles from all of his organs. He felt the sudden need to push and did so, and it was over very quickly, so to speak. The thing came out inside out, and Destiny had to gently pull it out, because it was hard to push when the thing he was using to push with was no longer attached.

 

“Oh Jesus,” Destiny said softly. He imagined what she saw was gruesome; an open cavity to his insides. It hurt, but somehow not as badly as the first time. Nothing was ripping open, it was just detaching and as the doctor had said earlier it had already begun doing so before the birth. What hurt the worst was the sudden snap of his pelvis as it shifted back into place, and he let out a small groan of pain from this action. He could feel the shift inside of him, of everything moving back into place. The pain he'd felt from his inner penile injury was beginning to mend itself in addition to resuming its original position. Within moments he felt whole again, but unusual, because he'd gotten so used to not having balls. His hips also felt different, having migrated back to their original shape.

 

“What does it look like?” he asked, sitting up again, although he realized he didn't have to sit far. He could actually _see_ past his stomach now. Amazing.

 

“Um, well...this is the placenta,” she said, gesturing towards a thick, purple veiny pancake looking thing all crumpled up and attached to what looked like a ball of gore. “Do you want to see what the other side looks like?”

 

“Yeah...I wanna see the thing that's been fucking me up for months.”

 

“I hope you know I love you,” Destiny sighed, once again pulling on a pair of gloves and beginning to untangle the thing. She pulled the placenta way to separate it from the rest of the now defunct organ, and managed to turn it inside out. She shuddered, seeming visibly disgusted by the thing. It was a long, once ball-like stretched out thing with hundreds and hundreds of thick, long tendrils branching off of it. At the end of it was a tube-like structure, now also flat.

 

“Gross...” Peter muttered.

 

“Yeah. I don't usually have to remove whole uteruses.”

 

“Pryce would have a fuckin' field day,” Roman commented.

 

“You want me to keep it for him?” Destiny asked, but the way she asked was hesitant like she was afraid Roman would say yes.

 

“No, fuck that. Get rid of it. I don't want him getting his hands on it.”

 

“Oh thank God,” she sighed, disposing of it in the same place she'd disposed the rest of the biological wastes that evening. “Okay Peter, hard part's over. I think both of you should get some rest. You can _try_ cleaning up but if you can't move much, I won't judge you. I've had to come in here and spongebath people afterwards.”

 

“No,” Peter said, denying her the task of spongebathing him. He was already humiliated. “What about Nikki?”

 

“I'll look after her. Roman, you need to go with him in case something happens.”

 

“Shouldn't you get some rest?” Peter asked. “I mean that can't be good for _your_ baby...”

 

“Peter!” she shouted, to which he remembered her hangup.

 

“Okay!”

 

“I am fine, trust me. I'm exhausted but I'm okay. I've been up since 6am...Once you both go to sleep, so will I. Nikki will be fine. I've done this before.”

 

Peter reluctantly agreed, making sure as he stood to look at her as long as he could. Standing was not easy. Somehow, he still felt sore though there was nothing left of him to feel sore from. He felt like he should have abs by this point, that kind of burn from his muscles, but he knew he still had a good bit of weight on him at this point. His hips hurt, his legs hurt, and his abdomen felt profoundly empty. It was so unusual at this point to _not_ feel her in him. He felt like where she had been, though, he also hurt. His fucking _organs_ hurt. He made it to the bathroom regardless; shuffling slowly with Roman behind him. He found he did not have the energy to actually shower, but also didn't want to bathe. Instead he stripped down, noting the shocking amount of blood and slime on his thighs and gown. He was surprised he had not bled out, and that he wasn't dead. Peter did have a habit of bleeding heavily monthly, though.

 

Roman helped him, even though he didn't really want it, he was so fucking tired he could barely left his arms long enough to get the washrag. He had merely sat in the bathtub, running warm water with the intent of using it to scrub himself off. Roman did it for him.

 

“You know, I said I didn't want you down there...” Peter mumbled, half asleep. “Guess it happened anyway.”

 

“It was kind of terrifying...” Roman admitted. “You were literally pissing blood. _Just_ blood.”

 

“God, I'm glad that shit healed during the change back.”

 

Peter, at this point, was so exhausted that he eventually fell asleep while Roman was bathing him. He'd been completely unaware of this fact until he woke up later in Destiny's guest bedroom. Sun shining, Roman sleeping by his side, Nikki in her bassinet making tiny baby-type noises. He thought he should get up, he thought he should check on her. He thought that, but he failed, and before he realized it he was asleep once again. Peter was honestly exhausted enough to sleep the entire day. Maybe he'd do that...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not even birth will stop me talking about bodily functions

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [ornery rain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15112004) by [Oshii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oshii/pseuds/Oshii)




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